


Say It First

by Rearviewdreamer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Drug Use, Happy Ending, High School, Infidelity, M/M, Pining, Time Travel, butterfly effect au, making much better choices, making poor choices, me entertaining me, oblivious idiots, righting wrongs, there is death but this is time travel so not really, uni - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rearviewdreamer/pseuds/Rearviewdreamer
Summary: When it comes to Louis, Harry feels like he has spent a lifetime getting it wrong, but on a chance night together where time mostly seems to be on his side, he gets the opportunity to try it all again. And again, and again, and again in an attempt to finally get it right before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

** _Two Months Earlier_ **

“Would you rather eat a jar of earthworms or lick the bottom of a foot?”

The large bite of pepperoni pizza Harry’s chewing is nearly vacuumed down his throat when he snorts. He recovers quickly though, which is a good thing. It’s not like help would come running way out here to the football pitch to help save him in the event that he choked, and his useless best friend would be, well, useless.

“It depends,” Harry answers once the immediate danger of choking to death because of him has passed.

Louis’ face screws up in equal parts disgust and curiosity. “It depends on _what_ exactly?”

“Whose foot it is, of course. Some have to be cleaner than others,” Harry shrugs with a slight grimace.

His best friend gives him a flat look, unimpressed by his attempt at loophole logic to get out of answering.

“It’s Niall’s foot,” he deadpans. “After a twelve-hour run through the desert. With Liam. Without socks.”

“Definitely worms,” Harry immediately decides. He’d eat _two_ jars full to avoid that sort of anguish.

His quick answer must’ve been the right one based on the way Louis throws his head back in laughter, so thoroughly delighted that the sound of it bounces off the trees surrounding their little grassy haven.

“Have I mentioned that I hate this game?” Harry snorts. It’s a pointless reminder he gives at least once per week that Louis has never actually acknowledged. Nothing changes today either as his laughs slowly taper off and he fixes Harry with a deadly serious look.

“Alright then. Would you rather live without Netflix or chocolate?”

“That’s easy,” Harry boasts. “Netflix. I could still watch television and go see movies at a theatre, but living without _chocolate_? That’s just plain cruel. There’s no consolation.”

“Good answer. I’d choose the exact same,” Louis praises him just as he tosses a few chocolatey M&Ms into his mouth. He sighs at the taste of them, his eyes closing as his tongue absorbs their rich flavor. “ _God, I love chocolate_ ,” he sighs again, completely missing the little yellow butterfly that excitedly hovers above their heads before flitting off towards the trees.

Louis pops a few more M&M’s into his mouth and Harry watches the intricacies of his jawline and the muscles of his throat work as he swallows them down, followed by a long sip of Harry’s drink that makes his lips quirk up at the corners after he licks over them.  

“Let’s take it up a notch,” he challenges. “If you had to give up one, would you choose chocolate or sex?”

Harry can feel himself panicking over his lack of another quick answer as Louis’ smile adds more and more crinkles to his eyes. Just like the choice between the worms or the sweaty foot, for Harry, it depends. Mostly on with whom he’d be having such mind-blowing sex that he forgets to miss something as amazing as chocolate. Though, he can think of one such person right now. And not just because his feet are currently tangled up with Harry’s in the grass.

“Erm. Don’t know,” Harry shrugs indifferently to pass off his lie. “Can’t choose.”

His neutral answer only makes Louis’ smirk all the more wicked. “Sex with Logan was _that_ good, then?” he needles.

No. Sex with Logan was something Harry only did to stop obsessing over the fact that he can’t have sex with Louis. Needless to say, it was a fantastically dumb plan because here he is a whole five months later glorifying the way his best friend’s throat performs basic functions as if he’s the first man on Earth to eat a fucking M&M.

He doesn’t answer Louis’ question, which isn’t new considering his sex life is something he rarely talks about. It’s a nice balance since Louis’ sex life is something he rarely _asks_ about. Simply put, he’d rather not know the details of what Louis does with other people when he’s not around. Knowing just makes him do dumb and impulsive shit like letting Logan Thompson fuck him in the backseat of his car after school.

Eventually, Louis stops trying to seductively eyebrow-wiggle an answer out of him and gives up with a resolved sigh. “Alright, alright,” he rolls his eyes. “I know you’re a ‘ _gentleman_ ’ and all that. You don’t kiss and tell.”

That’s a lie. If Louis kissed him he’d tell the whole fucking universe.

The silence they fall into is a little awkward after Harry refuses to gossip with him. It makes him wonder if this sort of weirdness is all he has to look forward to next year once Louis has gone off to uni and Harry has to sit out here on the freshly-mowed pitch all by himself. It’s possible that he can convince Niall or Liam to skip classes and come out here with him. But, it’ll never be the same without Louis. It can’t be.

It’s still eerily quiet so Harry goes back to finishing his pizza and Louis goes back to finishing his M&M’s with this subtle set to his jaw that says he wasn’t quite finished fishing for details before. He’ll ask about Logan again if they sit here long enough. The mystery surrounding the one person Harry has slept with will drive him mad as it has been for months, but after more than a decade of friendship, Harry is well versed in methods of evasion. And, also, at turning his best friend’s frown upside-down. 

“Would you rather shit rainbows or piss glitter?” he asks and the triumphant smile Louis sports is instantaneous.  

Harry really does hate this game. It’s gross and dumb and makes no sense whatsoever, but he can only hate it so much when it makes his best friend’s face light up like that.

Louis rolls up his sleeves to feel the early summer sun on his arms and lies back to watch the clouds pass by overhead.

“ _Now_ we’re talking,” he grins before delving into the potential benefits of having sparkly piss.

******

A couple of weeks later finds the both of them fully immersed into their summer holiday. A time of year that Harry has always looked forward to simply because of all the amazing things that come along with it like late mornings, later nights, hours wasted marathoning mindless tv shows with his friends, and entire, glorious days spent sunbathing with the ocean lapping over his bare feet. Things have been that way since before he can remember. Just him, Liam, Niall, and Louis making the most of their well-earned break before school starts back in the fall. However, he supposes it’ll be a bit different this year. Mostly since one of them will be leaving.

Even after all this time he has had to prepare himself, Harry still can’t believe it’s really happening. The inevitable doomsday he’s been dreading since he was eight-years-old and the cool kid a year above him found him sitting alone and said hi. 

“ _You’re not_ _going_?!” Harry yells it so loud that everyone in the clothing shop they’re killing time in turns to look in their direction with concern. Louis doesn’t even blink, not bothered in the slightest by being the center of attention. He never has been, but he snorts a laugh and shushes Harry with a hand over his mouth like he does, giving the old woman behind the register a look of apology on Harry’s behalf.

“You’re not going?” he repeats at an exaggerated whisper once Louis removes his hand which just makes Louis laugh more. “No, seriously. What’s up?”

“Eh. I don’t know. It’s just a dumb party,” Louis shrugs as he lazily sifts through a rack of leather jackets. “Been to one, you’ve been to them all so I was thinking maybe we’d just hang out instead. My mum and sisters will be out so we’d have the tv all to ourselves,” he says with an enticing raise of his eyebrow.

That plan sounds wonderful. Harry would love to stock up on junk food and watch dumb movies at Louis’ house all night until they fall asleep. They’ve done that every summer _all_ summer long since they were kids, and usually, Harry lives for it. But, this year isn’t like all the others because they won’t have a big start of school party in the fall to make up for this one if they miss it.

Well, there will still be an end of summer party Harry supposes. He just won’t be very interested in going to it without his best friend.

“You should go tonight, Lou. You killed your exams and worried about your results for weeks. This is _your_ party. You should celebrate,” Harry encourages him. He is leaving, and it kills Harry to imagine them being apart for a whole year, but still. Moving on to bigger and better things is something Louis should be very proud of. Harry certainly is. He’s never been more proud of anybody.

“ _Haz_ ,” he fondly rolls his eyes to downplay the slight blush on his cheeks. “It is not _my_ party. It’s Jamie’s. And even if it was, it’s not like it actually _means_ anything. I still may not even get _into_ a school let alone ours. And besides,” he shrugs. “I still kind of like the idea of maybe taking a year off to stick around here...”

Harry’s eyes are the next to roll because Louis is the smartest person he knows. He’s getting into _every_ school he applied to, not just the one they want to attend together. And although all Harry has ever dreamed of is for Louis to take a gap year to stay back with him, he knows in his heart that’s not the way this is going to go. He has known it for years and it sucks to have it finally happening, but it’s not like they can stop time from ticking on. It’s inevitable.

“You _are_ getting into school. And, come on, Lou. You _have_ to go tonight,” Harry needles, nudging him in the side with his elbow until he forces a stubborn grin onto his best friend’s face. “ _Louis_. Louis, say you’ll go celebrate your extreme awesomeness. Say it!” he demands at a shout drawing everyone’s attention right back to them. “I SAID, SA-!”

“Alright! Jesus! I’ll go! I’ll go!” Louis relents, playfully shoving him into a rack of clothes to shut him up.

“Oh, good,” Harry grins as he claws his way out of the jackets and regains his footing. “Well, only if you’re sure.”

“Don’t look so smug about it,” Louis warns, inflicting more playful abuse by giving Harry’s ear a flick with his middle finger. Harry is still massaging the sting out of it when Louis grabs one of the flowery sunhats hanging up beside them and forces him to wear it. “Because if _I_ have to go to this dumb thing then so do _you_.”

*

Harry’s entire being begs him to pull his eyes up from the group chat he’s pretending to be interested in to behold the magnificence of Louis changing clothes at the foot of his bed. It’s a constant struggle he’s been dealing with since he was twelve years old and he realized that wanting to run his fingers over Louis’ bare skin probably wasn’t a normal reaction to him climbing out of the pool. It’s funny how half a decade has passed since then and yet nothing at all has changed. His fingers still ache to touch him, Harry’s still painfully in love, and Louis still has no idea.

“What time are Liam and Niall meeting us there?”

When Harry looks up all he gets is an eyeful of Louis bending over in his unbuttoned jeans and then the muscles of his back contracting as he stands straight to pull on Harry’s old Guns N Roses t-shirt he thought he lost somewhere months ago. Apparently, it was just being borrowed. Or _stolen_ since Louis never mentioned taking it.

“Earth to Haz. What’d they say?” Louis turns toward him and Harry quickly points his gaze elsewhere. If he notices Harry’s staring, he doesn’t let on, his fingers buttoning his tight jeans on autopilot and adjusting them on his hips. “Are they coming? Am I going to have to go beat down some doors?”

“N-No, they’re coming,” Harry assures him, idly wondering in the back of his head why his old t-shirt was just pulled from the large recently-worn-but-still-clean pile of comfy favorites on the floor rather than the depths of Louis’ wardrobe where it should have still been hiding after all this time. “Er- They’re at Li’s now. They’re leaving in a few minutes to meet us.”

“Oh.” Louis checks the status of his hair after having carelessly tugged a shirt over it. “Well, good,” he chirps after deeming his comfortable, half-hearted appearance acceptable. “ _They better be_.”

*

It’s only a fifteen-minute walk to Jamie’s so the two of them take it together with Harry walking alongside the street like a normal person while Louis balances his steps on the edge of the cracked pavement. It’s no different from the way they used to take walks when they were kids except now Harry is a whole head taller than him despite being a whole year younger, and has since learned better than to try and mimic Louis’ poise since he quite enjoys _not_ falling on his arse.  

“Last chance to say fuck it and blow this whole thing off. My horror movie marathon offer still stands,” Louis warns when they reach the house at the end of the street that’s thumping with bass and the sound of dozens of voices overlapping each other. Jamie was relatively well-liked at school, but Harry is sure half the people here only came because they heard Louis would too. His presence alone usually makes or breaks a party like this, and tonight is probably the last time they’ll all come together like this before the majority of them leave town.

“We’re going. We’re _here_. Get over it,” Harry says before graciously pushing open the door for him.

It’s just as Harry expected when they walk in and several people make exaggerated cheers to welcome him. Louis has always been the popular one that everybody loves, which is why Harry couldn’t believe it when they first started hanging out together. Just like now, Louis had more friends than he knew what to do with when they were little. He didn’t necessarily _need_ another, and yet here he and Harry are, inseparable still to this day.

The obvious discrepancy in their amount of social pull at school has never bothered Harry. It often separates them in hierarchical environments such as this where everyone wants a little piece of his best friend, leaving Harry to occupy himself for a bit. But, that’s alright because getting to watch Louis shine is a phenomenon best witnessed by someone like him who can appreciate the bright, fearless, and bubbly persona that most people see on the surface as well as the much softer, much quieter side of him that only a select few get to experience. It’s the same side of him that would’ve been just as content curled up on the sofa tonight with his feet in Harry’s lap as they talked through every movie they chose.

They’ve barely even been in the room thirty seconds when a couple of girls from Louis’ class immediately sidle over. Their eyes are bloodshot, pupils blown wide the way Louis’ would be back when he occasionally socialized with that crowd.

One of the girls, the one with fiery red hair who looks as though she’s been celebrating long before she arrived here tonight, begins coyly tugging at his wrist to get him to come hang out with her and her other friends for a bit. Louis chuckles at her invitation, clearly flattered, however the way the girl glimpses over his shoulder at Harry fondly watching on lets him know the offer wasn’t exactly meant for two.

“Haz? You coming?” he asks, his feet sliding to a full stop when he notices Harry isn’t moving.

“Um, you go ahead,” Harry encourages his best friend when he glances back with an eyebrow raised in question. “I’ll be fine.” Louis doesn’t look convinced of this, torn between mingling with his classmates as he should or sticking by Harry’s side all night. “ _Go_ ,” Harry laughs, giving him a light shove to send him on. “Niall and Li will be here any minute. I’m going to wait for them.”

Hanging out with just them in places like this will be Harry’s new normal after Louis leaves anyway. He might as well start practicing.

“Oh. Um, alright, then.” Louis still looks hesitant to leave him, even the group of people loudly beckoning him from across the room. “Well, I’m only going to go say hi for a bit,” he promises, finally allowing himself to be guided in that direction. “Grab us a couple of beers, yeah? I’ll be right back. I’ll come find you!” he manages before the noise of the party drowns him out and he’s lost in the crowd.

Harry does grab a couple of beers and ends up drinking them both to keep them from getting too warm. Louis doesn’t completely forget about him though. He keeps popping his head up over the crowd every now and then to make sure Harry’s alright, shooting looks of apology Harry’s way each time he’s pulled into another quick hello by someone else demanding his attention.

By the time Harry’s ready for a third and fourth beer, Louis has moved on to another large group and shows no signs of being able to escape them anytime soon. But, thankfully, Niall and Liam finally show up and graciously decide to drink with Harry, quickly knocking back two beers each to catch up. Being in their company is fun and a very nice distraction from the boy across the room in a stolen Guns N Roses t-shirt whose laugh makes Harry’s stomach feel as wobbly and warm as the alcohol does.

“Who’s that over there with Lou?” Liam’s forehead is crinkled with curiosity. “Is that Jaime’s cousin?”

Harry follows the path of his gaze to Louis and a sandy-haired man with a brilliant smile who does look quite similar to their host. He must be the cousin who visits sometimes who is just as attractive as everyone claims and looks positively thrilled with himself after he whispers something to Louis and bright laughter rings out over the music once again.

“Yeah, that’s Thomas,” Niall answers, now curiously watching his and Louis’ interactions as well.

Harry doesn’t quite know what to make of him just yet either besides the fact that he’s obviously good-looking, he owns the spotless car parked outside that’s probably worth more than both Harry’s parents’ cars combined, and that tonight, Louis has caught his special attention.

A consoling hand comes down to gently squeeze Harry’s shoulder when he gets caught up watching the two of them together.

“H? You going to be okay?”

Harry tears his gaze away from the flirtatious scene going on across the room to meet Liam and Niall’s worried faces. He doesn’t understand why people always look at him like the world is ending every time Louis so much as breathes near somebody that isn’t him. They aren’t joined at the hip. Louis has other friends. Lots of them in fact, and he’s free to engage with them in any way he chooses, even if what he chooses makes Harry’s chest ache just thinking about it.

“Yeah, of course,” he says playfully shoving Niall’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m good. I’m fine,” Harry assures them with a small chuckle. “Why on Earth wouldn’t I be?”

Liam and Niall exchange a dubious look that has Harry feeling a lot less confident about how fine he just sounded. Maybe they can tell that Harry wishes he were the one getting showered with all of Louis’ attention right now. Or, perhaps they know Harry’s in love with someone who will never think of him as more than a friend. It’s possible that their friends have known all along. It would definitely explain the way they always look between him and Louis with all the sympathy in the world, but thankfully, neither of them has ever called Harry on it. Not yet anyway.

After a while, Harry stops keeping track of the time and also of the number of drinks he’s had, especially once it becomes apparent that Louis _isn’t_ coming right back like he said. Not that Harry can blame him. Not when he’s the center of Thomas’ focus. The mysterious newcomer who had to practically drag Louis onto the makeshift dancefloor which eventually shrinks down to nothing but their own little corner of the universe. Harry doesn’t mean to stare or keep track of how many centimeters Thomas’s hands bravely slip down Louis’ waist, but he can’t help it.

Thomas leans down to whisper something to him that clearly wasn’t meant for the other people dancing around them. Whatever he said must have been pretty funny because Louis splutters another laugh; genuine and full-bodied the way he always does whenever Harry purposely says something dumb.

They’re talking normally again when the conversation must turn to Louis’ choice of outfit. More specifically, the shirt he’s wearing and proudly holds out the hem of so that the Guns N Roses design is in full view between them. He grins over at Harry as he does so, instantly loosening the tight knot that’s been growing inside his chest while watching them.

Louis is talking about him now. He must be from the fleeting glance Thomas spares in Harry’s direction. The music is still pounding through the speakers, but Harry swears he can hear every fond inflection of Louis’ voice as he animatedly tells the story of how he managed to steal his favorite shirt right from under his nose. Harry watches Louis’ lips form the shape of his name over and over again and it’s invigorating to know he’s being spoken of with a smile, which is why it feels like a massive hole has been punched through his chest when Thomas suddenly leans down to kiss him, effectively stopping Louis’ words and Harry’s world from turning.

It only lasts a couple of seconds; over just as quickly as it happened, and clearly a complete surprise to Louis if his wide blue eyes and flushed cheeks are anything to go by.

“Haz. Don’t,” Niall warns when he notices him staring right at them.

Harry ignores his friend, already making his way through the crowd to remind Thomas of his fucking manners when he leans forward and whispers something else to Louis. It looks to be like some sort of an apology. A very much-needed one in Harry’s opinion for the overconfident shit he just pulled with his best friend. He should apologize to Louis no less than a billion times tonight, and yet Louis cackles aloud at the offense, brushing off the apology and looping his arms around Thomas’ neck to resume their dancing as if the kiss is forgiven. Just like that. As if the kiss _wasn’t_ as unwanted as Harry had thought. Or, rather, as he had hoped.

The people nearest the three of them all turn to look at Harry with this pitied look in their eyes and it makes his stomach roll to know that they know. It only takes a moment of Harry’s brain screaming at him to stop fucking walking to realize he’s bravely charging across the room to rescue a person who neither needs or apparently wants to be rescued.

He keeps moving, though, in another direction, bypassing the dance floor completely to go seek refuge in the kitchen. By some miracle, it’s deserted at the moment. It's beer-soaked and disgusting, and its walls are paper-thin, but luckily they’re thick enough to hide the fact that he’s downright pathetic. He never realized until now just how much of a fucking idiot he is.

He’s still calculating just how many people he’ll now have to avoid when school starts back when Louis of all people pokes his head into the kitchen. There’s a little worried frown on his face that melts into a fond grin the moment he spots Harry perched on the countertop.

“There you are,” he chuckles as he tosses back the last of the drink in his hand, sidling up to Harry on surprisingly deft feet to give his thigh a poke. “What are you doing hiding in here, huh?”

For some reason, his light teasing doesn’t come off as affectionate as Harry knows Louis meant it to be. He feels annoyed somehow even though Louis isn’t really doing anything. And Harry doesn’t necessarily _want_ to be upset with him. He’s pretty sure he’s just upset with himself for letting something as stupid as a drunken kiss between two strangers get to him, but Harry’s leg gives him away, tensing and jerking away from his best friend’s touch of its own volition.

Louis’ drunk. He has had just as much to drink tonight as Harry if not more, but his eyes still catch the quick movement. They crinkle up with a mischievous grin just before he pokes Harry for a second time.

“Oi. _Smile_ ,” he demands, the pout on his lips only deepening at Harry’s stubbornness to do any such thing.

“Louis, I’m not feeling great, so, can you just-? I don’t know,” Harry sighs, unable to come up with a nice way to tell him that he doesn’t want to be bothered right now. “I’m sure your friends miss you,” he says instead, prompting Louis to snort.

“Um. _Okaaay_ ,” he says with a chuckle. “That’s nice. Too bad I don’t particularly miss _them._ I missed _you_ , you idiot.”

He pokes Harry in the stomach this time, earning the same lackluster reaction as before so he links their fingers together instead with a more serious expression. It falls from his face when Harry disentangles their hands and hops down from the counter to put space between them.

“H-Haz?”

The broken way that Louis whispers his name almost makes Harry want to leave and put this whole night behind them. He hates making Louis feel bad for an unintentional slight that Harry shouldn’t have even gotten upset over, but the bottom line is that he’s not in the mood to be cuddled or touched at the moment. Not when it means something completely different to Louis than it does to him.

“I told you I’m not feeling well, so- please stop,” he says when Louis defiantly reaches out for his hand again, grasping nothing but air when Harry pulls it away.

“ _You_ stop,” Louis scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“ _Nothing’s_ wrong,” he snaps much louder than he meant to. “I just need a fucking minute to myself for once. Is that okay with you?”

It falls deathly quiet between them again as Louis blinks back in surprise at his tone, but the shock of it soon wears off, leaving hardened determination in its place.

“Right. So, what did I do or not do _this_ time?”

“Lou, don’t,” Harry sighs. They’ve both had too much to drink to even consider delving into what’s really going on here. “Please, just drop it.”

“No, I want to know. In fact, I deserve to know,” Louis demands. “You never want to talk about anything like fucking adults.” They’re nearly toe to toe again despite Harry’s efforts to keep his distance. “You’ve been tiptoeing around me all summer. All _year_ even, so just say it already. Tell me what awful fucking thing you think I did to piss you off and I swear I’ll leave you alone.”

“You didn’t _do_ anything. For fuck’s sake, I already told you it’s nothing!” Harry presses the heels of his palms into his eyes wishing more than anything that Louis’ weren’t filled with so much hurt and misplaced guilt. “Just-  Go back with your other friends, alright? I’ll be fine. Go drink with them or cozy up to Thomas like you have been all night.”

He didn’t actually mean to say that last part. The words have been whirring around inside his head for the past five minutes but he had no intention of ever giving them life.

“ _What?_ ” Louis shouts as if he’s never even heard the name before, but recognition soon lights up his face and then he’s rolling his eyes. “Seriously? _That’s_ what this is about? Jamie’s drunk fucking cousin I literally just met?” He laughs humorlessly as if the idea is preposterous. “What, are you _jealous_ or something?”

Harry can’t allow himself to answer that. He’ll sound like a lunatic admitting that he’s been seething ever since the moment their lips touched; burning all over with envy and a longing he’s felt each time he hasn’t been the Thomas in Louis’ life.  

“Haz?” Louis asks, the smile falling off his face when Harry doesn’t respond.

It’s a panicked decision when Harry snatches himself a fresh beer and starts walking, but it’s the only decision Harry can think of that’ll get him out of this kitchen with his dignity and their friendship intact. Running doesn’t really help, though. Not when Louis is right on his heels trailing him into the crowd and frantically calling his name.

“Harry, _he_ kissed _me_! That’s all it was!” he says, but Harry isn’t listening because it’s not like Louis minded. “You know, I don’t know what your problem is or why you even fucking care,” he yells, each word stabbing Harry like a knife in his back as they weave through Jamie’s guests. “ _You’re_ the one who made such a big deal about me even coming to this dumb party in the first place,” he points out only making Harry feel like even more of an idiot because they could’ve been at Louis’ right now if it weren’t for his own stupid, big mouth. “ _You’re_ the one who made me come here tonight, and now, what? You’re mad at me for actually listening to you? For actually trying to have fun?”

No, Harry’s mad at himself for falling in love with someone who doesn’t love him back, but he can’t tell Louis that.

“Haz, please. If you have something to say then say it. Just talk to me.”

A desperate hand closes around Harry’s arm forcing him to stumble and his fresh bottle of beer to go crashing onto the hardwood beneath their feet before either of them can catch it.

The sound of the glass shattering is much louder than Harry expected it to be in the crowded house. It cuts through the music and all the layered conversations, forcing everyone to still and search for the source of the disruption. The two of them are found in the direct center of the scene of the crime and in that moment Harry wishes he could disappear.

They’re all watching; every one of them whispering, and the knowledge of that sobers Harry almost immediately. He can feel their eyes on the hard lines of his shoulders and the firm grip Louis still has around his elbow. Harry has already made a fool of himself once tonight in front of these people, and now it’s happening all over again because the two of them have never fought like this. _Ever_.

The apples of Louis’ cheeks turn a faint pink once he notices their audience as well. His blush quickly fades when Harry tries to discreetly pry his arm out of his hold, causing Louis’ delicate features to harden in resentment. “I fucking hate you sometimes, you know that?” he spits under his breath.

Harry didn’t think his heart could ache any more than it did before, however Louis’ harsh words just proved him wrong. Louis waits there for him to say something in response. Maybe an apology. Perhaps even a snippy comeback to show that he still gives a damn but Harry’s mouth is frozen shut, too shocked to say anything at all.

He doesn’t know when or how it happens but a few people from the group Louis chatted up at the beginning of the night, work their way through the crowd to come over to flank their friend, giving Harry scathing looks through their dilated eyes. 

“You look like you could use a little break,” one of them says in Louis’ ear. “We’re heading out. Do you want to get out of here too?”

Louis’ crystal blue eyes are expectant and almost hopeful when he looks at Harry again. The music has been lowered so nearly every sound inside the house can be heard, including Harry’s heart thudding in his ears as if the balance of everything hangs on this single moment.

And yet, Harry remains as silent as ever, too afraid of saying the wrong thing again to upset Louis more.

“Yeah, I could use a break,” Louis scoffs aloud while staring daggers at him. “I’m actually starting to think that big year-long break that’s coming up for me sounds pretty nice.”

The sound of Harry’s heart ripping in two is deafening when Louis turns his back on him to be with his other friends. He thinks he may be sick as he watches Louis walk out, his vision blurring and spiraling along with his stomach as Louis does just that without even a backward glance.

The few drinks he’s had shouldn’t make him feel this nauseous, and yet he feels as though he’s being sucked down a drain as he groans and falls onto his knees. No one rushes over to help him up, not even Liam or Niall. They don’t even move, frozen in the warped still-frame currently closing in around him.

He rolls onto his side and squeezes his eyes shut to stop the room from spinning but he’s only able to breathe again once the room stills and he no longer feels as though he’s freefalling. Slowly, he cracks open his eyes but the slanted hardwood view of the party isn’t what he sees. Actually, none of the people from before are here and this isn’t even Jaime’s house. He’s somewhere else entirely.

The bed he’s now lying in is warm, but it doesn’t belong to him, Louis, or anyone else that Harry knows. There’s a clock on the bedside table that reads seven-twenty-eight. He squeezes his eyes shut against the sun peeking in through the blinds, trying to recall the last thing he did so he can organize the past few hours in his head.

He thinks back to the night before and his stomach turns at the memory of his and Louis’ fight. Louis left with some people to go cool down, but Harry doesn’t remember doing the same. He must’ve stayed even after the scene he caused and Jaime graciously stuck him in a guestroom to sober up. That makes the most sense, except for a pair Harry’s old boots lying in the corner that he didn’t wear last night and the various pictures of himself and his family members on the dresser as well as artfully wedged beneath the frame of the mirror across the tiny room.

The room is filled with his things now that he’s paying more attention. His guitar is here as well as the giant _Rolling Stones_ poster he never could part with even after it started falling apart from age, but it all looks a bit strange against the backdrop of thick law books stacked on the desk and the sleek black phone vibrating beside him claiming that his legal history lecture started ten minutes ago. And, also, that it is currently _two_ whole years later than it was when Harry passed out last night.

Harry picks up the phone that doesn’t belong to him, swiping left to clear the annoying alert away and by some twist of fate, his thumbprint unlocks it. He’s not sure who’s responsible for an elaborate prank such as this, but the lengths they’ve gone to are wildly impressive. He grins to himself knowing that only his best friend could pull something like this off. It’s probably payback for Harry acting like a complete dick last night. He should apologize to Louis, he decides, now opening the phone’s contacts to find Louis’ number. Unfortunately, it’s not there.

A new alert sends the phone into another frenzy; this one a text from someone called Alex asking where he is. From what Harry can tell from their message history, he and this Alex talk quite a bit. Harry has no idea who the hell he is but every one of their conversations begins and ends with a kissy face or a string of multicolored hearts.

_Interesting._

Alex texts him again to ask the same thing as last time which Harry finds annoying as fuck already. He’s resolved to just ignore this random person when he gets a text from someone he _has_ actually heard of before. Niall.

‘ _Oi._ _I’m dead bored. Where the hell are you?’_

Harry rolls his eyes, but hurries to reply to him. ‘ _I just woke up_ , _where are YOU? Are you still at Jamie’s_ _too_?’

All he gets in response is a confused, ‘ _Um_. _No?’_ then seconds later _, ‘And who the fuck is Jamie?_

It only takes a few seconds for Harry’s patience with this whole prank to reach its limit. ‘Alright, _you’re not funny and neither is Lou_. _I’m leaving_ ,’ he sends before throwing back the covers. He pulls on a completely different shirt and pair of jeans from the ones he wore last night and freezes in front of the window after a quick glance out of it disproves Harry’s entire theory about passing out at Jamie’s, because this is _definitely_ not Jamie’s.

Niall answers Harry back in the midst of him observing the hundreds of people milling through the uni campus stretched out before him. ‘ _Are you high right now??_ ’ Niall sends.

Harry is really starting to think so. It’s either that or his brain is having fun creating the most realistic dream he’s ever had. He even pinches himself a few times on the arm, though, nothing happens besides his skin turning red.

‘ _Where are you again?_ ’ Harry asks now stepping into his boots and covering his wild hair with one of his old beanies conveniently lying on the floor.

‘ _Where YOU’RE supposed to be_. _Dying in Dawkins lecture hall or lecture hell as I like to call it. Where else?_ ’

This whole Louis-going-away-to-uni thing has gotten under his skin so deep that he’s now dreaming about uni. Harry does a quick scan of his familiar belongings scattered around his ‘dorm room’, a bit disappointed in his subconscious for not being more creative and giving him cooler shit. It did however give him a course schedule that’s taped next to his mirror along with a grainy picture of him and some dark-haired man licking the side of Harry’s face.

Again. _Interesting._  

He spends so long trying to find the lecture hall that the lecture is long over by the time he gets there. Niall tells him to just meet everyone at the student café instead which is just as difficult to do because Harry doesn’t know where the hell that’s located either. Eventually, he does find it though, and Niall, along with Liam and a vaguely familiar-looking man with dark hair who sports a blinding smile when Harry walks in.

Liam greets him with a warm hello before sticking his nose back in the sports medicine book he’s busy poring over. “Hey, Haz.”

“It’s about time you decided to grace us with your presence,” Niall says, kicking out the chair in front of him in invitation.

Harry drops down into it, only slightly startled when the dark-haired stranger at the table smacks a loud kiss his cheek, but at least his tongue wasn’t involved this time.

“Hiya, babe. I ordered your usual for you. I had a bite of it. It’s good,” the man he assumes to be Alex chirps as he slides a giant burger in front of him.

Harry raises an eyebrow when he keeps staring, almost as if he’s waiting for something in return. His eyes are dark brown, but Harry swears he can almost see little multi-colored hearts dancing around inside them. This is by far the weirdest dream he has ever had.

“Er- _Hi_ ,” Harry says first and foremost. “And, um, thanks… _babe_.” Harry frowns, disliking the way the pet name feels heavy and wrong on his tongue, however, Alex seems very pleased to hear it.

“Of course. Don’t mention it.” He gives Harry’s knee a light squeeze with his hand and then just leaves it there. It’s more than a little weird but Harry allows it since it’s clearly something that happens all the time.

This whole scenario seems oddly routine for someplace he’s never been before. This little world his subconscious created has pieces of himself and his life scattered everywhere (except Alex the random boyfriend, of course. Harry doesn’t know where the hell his subconscious got him from), but in a bizarre dream world where there’s Niall, Liam, and himself, there must also be Louis. His appearance here is just a bit delayed.

“So,” Harry says, interrupting Liam’s studying, Niall’s oblivious texting, and Alex’s devout and almost creepy staring. “Where’s Lou? Is he on the way?” If the three of them go to the same uni together then he knows Louis goes here too or else Harry wouldn’t have even bothered.

“Lou, who?” Liam frowns over his textbook.

“Um, _Lou_ , Lou,” Harry clarifies. “As in Louis. _Tomlinson_?”

Everyone around him exchanges uncomfortable looks at the mention of him.

“Are you sure you’re alright? You’re acting really weird,” Niall says now staring at him just as hard as Alex just was. His friend sighs to himself when the questioning in Harry’s eyes doesn’t fade. “Haz. Come on, mate. If you’re waiting for Louis to show up here any time soon you’re going to be waiting a while. You know what he’s like these days. He hasn’t spoken to any of us in years.”

Just the tone of Niall’s voice and the way everyone avoids meeting each other’s gazes makes Harry’s chest tighten. Where is his best friend?

A three-hour train ride lands Harry back in his hometown standing in front of a rundown building on a street that has had a bad reputation for as long as Harry can remember. He double-checks and then triple-checks the address he had to bribe out of Niall, certain that this couldn’t possibly be Louis’ place, but the rusty outline of numbers that used to hang above the main entrance say otherwise.

The corridor of the top floor smells sour like cigarette smoke and mildew that’s visible near the ceiling where rain must seep through leaving it stained in deep shades of brown. The building’s walls are paper thin and its tenants get louder and their conversations more unsettling with each door he passes.

Louis’ is one of the last he comes to at the end of the corridor and it’s dead silent. Harry doesn’t know why he feels so nervous standing before it. It’s possible that Niall and Liam’s multiple attempts at talking him out of coming here have finally taken root. But, he has no idea why they kept telling him to leave Louis be when Louis is and always will be his best friend in the whole world. No fight or misunderstanding could ever change that.

He knocks three times on the old wooden door and holds his breath, releasing it after a few tense seconds after nobody answers. For attempt number two he knocks a bit harder, this time hitting nothing but air on the third tap as the door creaks opens from the inside.

The person standing behind it blinks at Harry through glazed-over eyes that show no evidence of recognition of him or the bright spark that Harry is so used to seeing within their depths. There’s only a thin ring of blue still visible around his enlarged pupils, but even that looks all wrong; too dark and sad like the sun’s rays have been stolen from the sky.

At first, Louis merely stares at Harry, his gaze sluggishly roving over the features of his face until one of them registers in his mind as something he used to know.

“ _Harry_?”

Just the sound of Louis’ voice settles Harry and loosens the tight knot at the back of his throat. He’s only been away from him for a day but it feels like an eternity.

“Hey, Lou.” The small grin Harry tries to offer doesn’t make it much further past a small twitch of his mouth before Louis snaps out of the daze he’s in and his eyes turn cold.

“What are _you_ doing here? Are you lost?”

His abruptness stings almost as if Harry is the last person he expected to see standing outside his door.  What the hell happened between them two years ago?

“Er- N-No, Lou. I’m not lost,” Harry shakes his head. “Of course not. I’m here to see you.”

“Why?” he scoffs. “Are they fresh out of recreational narcotics over in Uni Land?”

Harry didn’t think that was very funny, but Louis sure did, chuckling to himself as he holds the door open wider for him to walk through it.

“Well, you’ve obviously come all this way for something so you might as well come in. I promise Anna and I don’t bite,” he grins, stepping aside to reveal a tiny box of a flat and the redheaded girl from Jamie’s who convinced Louis to leave with her and her friends. Her eyes are still blown wide and black as coal as if they’re permanently stuck that way.

“Great _._ I remember _this_ one. Wish I didn’t after the way he abandoned you,” she comments with her nose in the air, but Louis tuts at her to be nice.

Apparently, that’s asking a bit too much. She rolls her dark eyes before announcing that she’s going to her room. Harry doesn’t miss her when she leaves, but he does wonder how the hell she and Louis befriended each other well enough to become flatmates when they were hardly more than good acquaintances when they were at school together.

“Don’t mind her,” Louis chirps as he walks over to the old sofa his friend was just slumped over. He flops down in her place in front of a coffee table covered in half a dozen little baggies. “Anna’s just a bit protective of me is all.”

She’s like a bloody succubus but Harry doesn’t say it.

“So, Hazza, what are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, fondly looking over his stash. Harry doesn’t even know what most of this shit is besides the bit of marijuana that’s lying out. Louis, Liam, Niall, and him have smoked a couple of times in the past, but they’ve never done anything harder than that. They’ve never even thought about it, so he has no idea where Louis got all these drugs from, why he’s selling them to begin with, or how much of them he’s been taking himself, but he won’t be doing any of it anymore if Harry has anything to say about it. He thought his dream sent him here to apologize and make amends, but clearly, he’s been sent here to rescue his friend.

“I don’t want any of this stuff, Lou,” Harry tells him. “That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you-?” A little crease forms between Louis’ eyebrows as they stare at each other, but then he’s smirking as his eyes travel up and down Harry’s tall frame. “ _Oh_. I see,” he giggles. “ _That’s_ going to cost you extra, I’m afraid. But, I’d be willing to give you a special discount since we used to be mates. And, since I’ve always kind of wanted to anyway. You never wanted me back then, but I guess now is just as good a time as any, right?”

Louis crosses the room and snakes his arms around Harry’s waist in a way that would ordinarily give him butterflies. He loves for Louis to touch him in any way. He always has, but tonight it just makes him feel sick. Everything about this terrible place makes his skin crawl.

“ _Kiss me_ ,” he whispers just as Harry twists out of his hold. Harry takes two wide steps backwards so that Louis’ hands fall back by his sides.

“We’re not doing this, Lou.”

“Well, not if you keep doing _that,_ we’re not,” he grins, gesturing to the large distance he just put between them. “Come here. _Relax_. You can even stay a while after we’re done if it makes you feel better.” He makes another try for Harry’s waist, but the mischievous gleam in his black eyes fades when Harry rejects him again. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Lou,” he gently links their hands together and holds them tight. “Louis, I’m sorry, but I’m not staying here tonight. Neither of us is. I’m going to take you back with me, okay? I’m going to get you out of here,” he calmly explains as Louis just blinks at him. “Maybe you should grab a jacket? It’s kind of cool out,” he suggests, looking over Louis’ slender arms, noting just how thin he is.

“And maybe you should go fuck yourself,” he quips back. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He yanks his hands out of Harry’s grip, almost daring him to say something else along the lines of them leaving. Louis has always been stubborn. He thinks just because he’s a year older that whatever he says goes, and for most of their lives, that has been true. That’s not going to be the case tonight though.

“Louis, I’m not leaving you here and I’m not leaving here _without_ you. You’re insane if you think I’d just walk away.”

“And why’s that? Nothing’s ever stopped you before, that’s for damn sure,” he snaps, turning on his heel to flop back down on the sofa. “It’s not like you actually care about me, but it’s not like I give a shit. Not anymore anyway,” he spits as he reaches for the corner of white powder left in the baggie closest to him.

He pours it out onto the table and scrapes it into three thin lines. Harry sprints forward the moment he sees Louis move to lean over them and sends all of it flying with a defiant swipe of his hand.

“Haz, what the fuck?! Why would you do that? Have you lost your fucking mind?” he screeches with more feeling than Harry has heard from him all night. He cares more about coke than he does himself or their friendship. That much is obvious as Harry watches him desperately search the table for remnants of the lines he made. When he finds none, he gets down on his hands and knees running his palms over the dingy carpet as if the coke will materialize from sheer will. “You’re going to pay for wasting that,” he warns. “And then, I want you to go and never come back!”

“Gladly,” Harry agrees. He can’t wait to leave this place. “But, _you’re_ coming with me.”

“No, I am not!” he exclaims. “Stop saying that over and over again like it means anything! I don’t want to be anywhere _near_ you. Why can’t you get that through your fucking head? I _hate_ you.”

Hearing him say such awful things is like a knife to the gut until he remembers that _his_ Louis, the gentle and sweet one from reality, would never tell him that. He’d never make Harry feel this way.

“You don’t mean that,” Harry whispers. “This isn’t even real. None of it is,” he says aloud for the first time even though he’s been thinking it since he woke up in this hell. “It’s just a dream. All of it. Even you,” he says, wishing _his_ Louis were here instead of this broken imposter who has his icy eyes trained on Harry, so lifeless that the look sends chills down his arms.

“This isn’t some dream, you dumb prick. Like it or not, this my life now. And I realized a long, long time ago that I like it a lot better _without_ you in it.”

“Louis, please,” he begs, watching as Louis completely shuts down in front of him to block him out again. “Please don’t be like this.”

“Get out of my flat, Harry.”

“ _Please._ Lou, just let me help you. Things don’t have to be this way. Come with me.”

“I said get out!” he booms so loud that his voice breaks on the end leaving his chest rising and falling in anger. “Leave me alone! Go back to your perfect fucking life with all your perfect friends and whatever new idiot you probably have fawning all over you! That’s who you really want to be with anyway, so just go!”

None of that is even remotely true. The only person Harry has ever wanted is the one screaming at him with tears falling down his hollow cheeks. All the noise causes Anna to stir, storming into the living room to find Louis falling apart. Her voice angrily lashes out at him as well, now shouting at Harry to get out too as she holds Louis close to comfort him.

Harry stumbles over his own feet in his attempt to find the door, the back of his throat stinging with hot tears as he leaves his best friend there, crumpled on the floor in Anna’s arms. Every piece of his chest aches as he runs down the corridor trying to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. It’s only then that he realizes it doesn’t _feel_ like he’s dreaming. Not anymore. The pain’s too sharp; too real to be only imaginary. Now, he isn’t sure what this is or how the hell he got here, just that he desperately wants to leave.

His feet pound down on the pavement one after another until he can hardly breathe. The ripping feeling from the night before tears through him again, leaving his vision blurred from tears as well as dizziness as his world starts spinning. It’s like the sky and everything around him is being pinched and lifted away as it disappears, leaving the inside of a house in its place. _Jamie’s_ house to be exact.

He’s been here before he realizes; _done_ all this before as he storms through the living room with someone right on his heels and calling out his name. It’s Louis, he finds when he turns around, but not the one he just left on the floor. This Louis is wearing Harry’s old Guns N Roses t-shirt. His skin is radiant and his eyes are absolutely beautiful, even if they are widened in desperation at the sight of Harry determinedly walking away from him.

“ _He_ kissed _me_! That’s all it was!” rings out over the party as Louis keeps trying to stop him, and although Harry doesn’t _feel_ angry at the moment, he can feel hollow remnants of the emotion coursing through him as if he should be or as if he _was._

Louis keeps beseeching him to stop, and Harry does once Louis’ hand closes around his arm. The beer bottle in his hand falls to the ground in a weird moment of déjà vu in which Harry somehow already knew that would happen. And then, the entire room is staring at them. A whole houseful of people who don’t hear the wounded bite in Louis’ tone when he whispers that he hates Harry the same as he did the last time they lived this very moment.

He remembers all of this. Every millisecond happens the exact same, except this time when Louis’ other friends make their way over to them, Harry sees them snaking their way through the crowd. Their eyes make his stomach churn. The same soulless blown pupils that the other Louis had, zeroing in right on his best friend like a piece of prey.

These people ruined the other Louis and his entire future. They turned him into something horrible that Harry could hardly recognize and they’ll do it again if given the chance so Harry takes it away from them.

“Louis. Louis, listen to me. You have to say no,” he whispers as they get closer. “They’re about to ask you to leave with them. Say you can’t.”

“What?” Louis frowns at his random request. “How would you know? What are you even-?”

“You look like you could use a little break,” Anna sneers right on cue as she hangs off Louis’ shoulder, possessively wrapping her hands around his arm until Harry physically pries her fingers off him and steps between them.

“He’s not going anywhere with you,” Harry says in challenge. “He’s just fine.”

“Um, _he_ , is right here and can speak for himself,” Louis scoffs. “What the hell is going on with you tonight?” he frowns before turning to his friend to apologize.

“Anna, I’m so sorry about that. What were you just saying, love?”

“Nothing,” Harry answers before she can even open her mouth. “It doesn’t matter what she said because you’re not going wherever she’s about to invite you,” Harry says and this time he doesn’t whisper it. He desperately takes Louis’ hand in his and Louis’ cheeks flush red, eyes trained on the dozens of other pairs watching them.

“ _Why are you being like this? You’re embarrassing me_ ,” he hisses through clenched teeth. He snatches his hand away and Harry even doesn’t try to stop him. Louis can be angry and embarrassed just as long as Anna and her friends aren’t involved in trying to cheer him up. 

“Louis, you can be mad at me if you want. You can even hate me, but you cannot leave with them. Especially not _her_ ,” he says when Anna and her friends all give him a fierce look of indignation. “Please, Lou. For once, just listen to me,” Harry begs when Louis looks between him and Anna both with skepticism.

“Nobody has to go anywhere if they don’t want to,” Niall says diplomatically out of nowhere. He eyes Harry with concern as he walks over, strategically placing himself in the middle of the three of them.

Harry didn’t even notice him and Liam walking over, but he’s so glad he did.

“Why don’t we go grab another beer, yeah?” he suggests to Louis, and Harry could kiss him for making such a genius proposal.

Louis quickly agrees, however Anna and her friends don’t let Louis’ decision to stay stop them from their original plan. They leave, each of them scowling at Harry with more disdain than the person before, but Harry just smiles and breathes easily, thankful his best friend won’t get drawn in with them.

“Ni, thank you _so_ much,” he whispers to his friend once Louis heads over to where Liam is standing in wait to further diffuse the situation with Louis’ promised beer in his hand. Harry moves to follow but gets stopped before he can even take a step by a gentle hand on his chest.

“Oh, no. Not you too,” Niall tells him. “He needs a few minutes to cool off and so do you.”

Harry hates to admit it, but he thinks Niall may have a point. With the annoyed glances that Louis keeps shooting in his direction, he’s sure the two of them would start arguing again the moment he walked over. He should let Louis cool off, sober up, and let the iciness in his eyes melt down to the warm spring pools they usually emulate. That way, they can put this whole mess behind them and pretend it never happened.

“You’re right. Actually, I’m going go ahead and go,” he decides instead, to which Niall rolls his eyes.

“I didn’t mean you had to _leave_ ,” Niall clarifies. “I just said to give him a bit of space.”

“No, I don’t mind. Really. This is his big night anyway.” Harry was just tagging along as per usual.

Niall still looks put out that he’s choosing to leave, but Harry only feels comfortable doing so because he’s certain that he’s leaving Louis in good hands.

“You don’t have to go home, Haz. You know Lou would want you to stay even if you two are having a row. He can never stay mad at you for long. Neither of you can, really. It’s gross,” he smirks.

“Yeah. I know we are,” Harry grins, wrapping his friend in a tight hug because every word Niall just said about them is one-hundred percent true and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “I’ll call you all tomorrow,” he promises. “Have a good night.”

Harry can’t explain the sudden urge he feels to check over his shoulder as he’s leaving, but is Louis staring right at him when he does. Harry offers him a small grin in truce when their gazes lock, and at first, Louis is stubborn about returning it. He gives Harry nothing but a roll of his eyes, but even as annoyed as he is, he can’t help grinning back after a beat causing Harry’s chest to flood with a warmth he wouldn’t trade for anything in this world, coupled with the peculiar yet eerily familiar sensation of being sucked down a drain.


	2. Chapter 2

He literally just got back from the worst place he’s ever been and he has no intention of returning any time soon. He shouldn’t even _have_ to go back there after having saved Louis from making the wrong choice and yet here he is, being ripped from the present once again and transplanted someplace else he doesn’t belong.

A jolt of pure ecstasy climbing up his spine shocks him into the new present, gasping for air as if he’s been held underwater and finally allowed to breathe again for the first time. His eyes fly open to try and ground himself as hot pleasure rushes through him, but all he sees is the blue of Louis’ eyes half-hidden behind low lids and he expertly rocks himself into oblivion straddled across Harry’s lap.

“Stay with me, baby. Wait for me,” Louis begs when Harry glances down between them to find himself buried to the hilt inside of him and he nearly comes just from the visual let alone the tight pressure surrounding him from base to tip. “Wait for me.”

He’s not sure how long he and this version of Louis have been going at it, but he’s drenched with their sweat and nearly breathless as he sinks down to take Harry as deep as he can.

“Just focus on me and you. On _us_ ,” he whispers, holding Harry’s cheeks so he can’t look anywhere else. Not that Harry even wants to try. He has no idea where his time just dumped him or why but he’s certainly not going to waste this moment by questioning it any further with Louis riding him like this.

Every inch of Louis is pressed hot against his skin and panting in a way that Harry has only ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He feels and tastes just like Harry has always guessed he would, the salt from their bodies curbing the sweet burn their tongues create each time Louis slips his into Harry’s mouth.

He has never seen his best friend like this. So far gone that he’s practically lost to the pleasure washing over him as Harry’s hips push forward to meet his. He uses the handful of thick flesh between his fingers to draw Louis even closer, drowning the room in a ragged moan that breaks right next to Harry’s ear. Recreating that heavenly sound is his only goal after that, hardly even allowing Louis to raise himself up and breathe properly before he’s shoving another long, even stroke inside of him.

The blunt edges of fingernails drag across Harry’s shoulder blades and then up into his scalp for something to hold onto. “ _Fuck,_ Haz. I’m shaking,” Louis croaks out, almost sending Harry over the edge just knowing that he’s finally the cause of Louis feeling this good after all these years of wishful thinking.

Harry’s eyes flutter closed as he absorbs every shudder that Louis’ body makes against him. His neck is covered in chills from Louis’ trembling lips gently brushing alongside his skin. It’s an ecstasy he’s never experienced, and yet every smooth rotation of Louis’ hips and catch of breath that hangs between them feels familiar somehow. Practiced, as if this is just one time out of a million. But, if this is how it feels with Louis in the future every single time then Harry has no idea how he’s lasted this long, because he literally just got here and he’s already done for.

Louis meets his eyes again, his desperate grip forcing Harry to stare into his blue depths once more. “ _I’m coming_ ,” he whispers, chanting it over and over again until he’s simply mouthing the words against Harry’s lips. When he finally does reach his breaking point, he cries out, every muscle in his body tensing before he’s spilling between them and all over the crisp white sheets that Harry doesn’t give two fucks about. The only thing he currently cares about is the look on Louis’ face when Harry lets go and comes just moments after him, burying himself so deep that they both gasp aloud at the sudden punch.

Gently, their chests deflate on the exhale leaving Harry’s skin tingling like static as he slowly comes down to trembling fingers combing through his wet hair. The pounding rhythms of their hearts slackens after a while, easing back into their natural paces, but their senses are still heightened just being near each other. Harry has never had the divine privilege of kissing Louis before, so when he does it, he makes sure to do it right, eliciting a content sigh from Louis like he’s the privileged one in this situation.

He has no idea how the hell they got here. The Louis and Harry from the time he was just ripped away from feel nothing like the Louis and Harry from right now. This is more than just two friends who’ve always felt a little more than they should for one another. Even without hearing or saying the words, Harry knows that this is love. The very embodiment of the word has been sewn into every second he’s been here and this is what it feels like to live it. This is what it feels like to have _finally_ gotten it right.

The same old mischievous grin that Harry has been mesmerized by since he was a kid appears when Louis pulls back, though a few thin lines now grace the corner of his eyes. He removes himself from Harry’s lap and his gaze travel the inches of bare skin glistening before him, more toned and golden than Harry’s ever seen it before. “What?” he asks, fondly rolling his eyes when he notices Harry’s shameless watching.

“You’re beautiful,” Harry tells him. “Gorgeous. Always have been.”

Louis tries to roll his eyes again, but he just ends up biting down on a fresh smile that lights up his face as he picks up a thin silver band from the bedside table and slips it onto his ring finger. Harry can hardly believe his eyes, his heart bursting with happiness for the life they’ve made together, which is why he finds it peculiar that he himself is not wearing a silver ring to match. He doesn’t even have a tan line.

“Oh, shut it,” Louis teases as he leans back over the bed for another quick kiss. “You’re just trying to flatter me to make me stay.”

Harry’s brow furrows as he watches Louis successfully locate a pair of running shorts and a tank top from the floor. “Where are you going?”

“Home of course,” he explains as he wiggles into his shorts. Harry just blinks at him, making Louis smile and fondly shake his head. “The kids have been there with the nanny all afternoon and you know Thomas is back tonight. He’s going to want to spend time with them when he gets in. Especially little Ethan since it’s his birthday this weekend.”

A heavy weight crashes to the pit of Harry’s stomach, and suddenly he’s never felt so nauseous. The new eerie silence hanging over them prompts Louis to stop what he’s doing and look over at him.

“What?” he frowns again without any of the modest charm from last time. All Harry can do is cradle his head as he replays the events of Jamie’s party which are still horribly and terribly wrong.

“Y-You’re married? To _Thomas_ ,” he says, disbelief making his tongue feel heavier than normal as he tries to comprehend how this future is somehow just as awful as the last. “You married him.”

It’s a dumb statement he knows, but also one he can’t seem to wrap his head around when he’d just been so convinced a few seconds ago that _they_ were the ones who got married and lived happily ever after.

“…Well, _yeah_ ,” Louis confirms with a slightly bemused expression, a tiny grin tugging at his lips. “We had this big fancy event a few years ago where we wore suits and everything,” he chuckles. “I believe you even wore one too, _best man_.”

Harry shakes his head again, desperately trying not to picture himself standing behind his best friend as he promised to spend the rest of his life with somebody else. With the person that Louis only met because Harry insisted they go to that stupid party and then kept him from fucking leaving it. Keeping Louis away from Anna that night catapulted him straight into Thomas’ waiting arms.

“If you’re married then- then, Lou, what the hell are you doing here with _me_? Like _this_?” he gestures at the sex-rumpled sheets he’s still lying in. Apparently, that came off more much more offensive and panicked than he meant when Louis blinks back in surprise.

“It’s Tuesday.”

He shrugs like that should be explanation enough for them lying and sneaking around behind his husband’s back.

“I always blow off the gym to come be with you. It was your idea since your legal team preps your client meetings all afternoon, remember? Same thing on Thursdays except you take an extra-long lunch instead.” Harry is dumbfounded by how routine this obviously is for them. “Well, babe, don’t feel _too_ bad about my wasted my gym membership,” Louis smirks when Harry suddenly has trouble meeting his eyes out of guilt, coming over to smack a kiss to his jaw. “You have to admit, I still get one hell of a workout.”

Louis finishes perfecting his alibi ensemble, pulling on the rest of his clothes at the side of the bed as well as the lone sliver Rolex from the bedside table and all Harry can do is watch on in amazed silence, too scared to ask more questions, and yet, mesmerized by every move Louis makes. He steals a bottle of water, a pair of socks from Harry’s dresser drawer, artfully arranges his sweaty sex hair in the mirror so it looks more gym-induced, and then throws his half-empty Adidas bag over his shoulder to complete the facade. Once he’s done, Louis doubles back to the bed for a fresh kiss that makes Harry’s chest tighten uncomfortably, and then he’s off, shouting a quick ‘ _Bye_ , _Haz! Love you!_ ’ before the door shuts behind him.

He’s left in complete silence as he runs his thumb over his slack lips, somehow even more astonished than he was before as he looks around at his big, amazing future flat. He and Louis are both older than when he woke up at uni, but everything here still feels vaguely like Harry from his old guitar hanging up beside a much newer one, to the various photos of him and Louis dating all the back to his ninth birthday party.

How badly did the two of them have to fuck up between then and now to wind up here and become these types of people?

There’s a phone lying on the bedside table that Harry didn’t notice before thanks to the gorgeous silver wedding band that he apparently _did not_ put on Louis’ finger. The date displayed on the screen is more than twelve years past his normal present putting them both around thirty years old. His calendar keeps spitting out alerts for meetings and consultations being scheduled for him at this very moment by his assistant, and he has several missed calls from a four-leaf clover emoji next to a pint glass who could only be Niall. The various pictures scattered around his flat are of him and Liam too so Harry assumes that means they’re still his friends and therefore morally obligated to help him figure out his shit. It’s either that or Harry is secretly fucking them too, which he sincerely hopes is not the case.

Niall’s Irish brogue greets him after three rings. “Well, look who’s alive and returning phone calls,” he mutters, making Harry roll his eyes in annoyance. They may be more than a decade older, but _that_ certainly hasn’t changed. “All done sinning for today?”

So, him and Louis sleeping with each other _isn’t_ so secret after all.

“Shut up and tell me where you are,” Harry says in place of the hello that _normal_ people would expect, but his tone softens once he sinks down in bed and Louis’ scent makes his stomach flutter and turn all at once. “I, um- I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

He’s grateful when Niall doesn’t respond with more of their usual banter.

“Sure, Haz. Of course. Are you alright?” he asks more seriously.

He just had the best sex of his life with the love of his life. Based on those two facts alone he should be ecstatic, but he isn’t. Mostly, he just feels like shit.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to go traipsing around the city in search of Niall like he did at their uni. Apparently, he was already out for lunch so he comes over to Harry’s with two giant frappuccinos in hand. Niall sets them down on the coffee table next to his phone that lights up with a picture of him, a stunning woman Harry’s never seen before, and a toddler with blue eyes and a smile just like his.

Harry wraps his friend in a hug nearly bursting with pride when he sits down next to him. He’d congratulate him on his beautiful family, but that would only make Niall grimace and squirm away from him even harder.

“I just saw you yesterday, you weirdo. Now, calm down and tell me why exactly I needed to rush over here because I don’t see any blood or a body,” he says with cursory glance around.

His eyes land on a light blue t-shirt draped over the armchair that’s too small to belong to him, but he doesn’t comment or seem to be judging too hard when he faces Harry again with a raised eyebrow.

“Well? Don’t bore me with details.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Oh, so just another typical day, then?” Niall smirks as he sips his sugary drink. “Seriously. Talk. What’s going on?”

“This is going to sound strange and like a complete waste of your time, but I need you to do me a huge favor. I need you and clarify a few things for me.”

“Okay…” Niall says carefully. “A few things like what?”

“The last twelve years?” Harry winces. “I’m, uh, kind of having trouble remembering them.” Niall presses his palm against his forehead for signs of a fever, eyeing Harry with even more concern when he finds none.

“Are you _high_ right now? It’s the bloody middle of the day.”

“ _No._ And I’m not ill either,” Harry assures him just like the other future Niall who jumped to the same fucking conclusions. “I just need you to walk me through it all.” Mostly so he can figure out what the hell went wrong.

His friend stares at him for a long time before shrugging with a mumbled _‘fuck it’_. “Alright, then. What is it you want to know?”

“Everything,” Harry blurts out. “Anything to do with me and Louis. I need you to start from the beginning at Jamie’s party and tell it to me as if I weren’t there. I need to know how we got here,” he explains, but that only makes Niall look uncomfortable.

“You know Li and I try our best to stay _out_ of all that.”

“Oh.” Harry frowns feeling guilty all over again. This time for him and Louis putting their best friends in the middle of all this bullshit. “I’m sorry I’m dragging you into it.”

“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s definitely fucked up,” he quickly amends. “Thomas isn’t a bad guy at all. He loves Louis and the kids and he takes good care of them. Unfortunately for him, his only real crime is not being _you_.”

“How long has this been going on between us?” Harry asks. He doesn’t expect the sarcastic snort Niall makes under his breath.

“You mean, how long have you two been desperately in love with one another or how long it took you both to finally fucking realize it?” Harry doesn’t laugh along with him. He can’t with the fresh wave of nausea settling into his stomach. “Look, everyone knows you’ve been crazy about each other since we were kids, but as far as Li and I know, you only told him how you feel about a year ago. I’m pretty sure that’s when this all started.”

Harry’s heart sinks like a weight. What the hell has his future self been doing here for thirteen years besides being a fucking idiot?

“I never told him?!” he shrieks. It’s no wonder Louis married somebody else. “I don’t understand. What the fuck was I waiting for?” 

“Don’t know, mate,” Niall shrugs. “I’ve been asking the same question for years. Welcome to my world.”

On second thought, he knows exactly what he was waiting for; the moment he could tell Louis the truth without risking their friendship or the possibility of Louis never speaking to him again. He was so afraid of fucking things up that he ruined any chance of them ever being truly happy.

“He married _Thomas,_ though?” This is the second time Harry has said that out loud and it still feels like a punch to the gut. “How the hell did that even happen?” It’s a rhetorical question and yet Niall answers it anyway.

“Um, maybe because you practically told him to?” Niall frowns at him. “They used to break up every five minutes all through uni. It was always over some dumb argument or another; mostly about _you_ , I’m sure. But then, the last time they got back together Thomas proposed and Louis flat-out asked you if there was _any reason at all_ that he should turn him down.”

“And I said no.” He must have. Too scared to just tell him the damn truth.

“And you said no,” Niall confirms. “Then a year ago, out of nowhere, you decided you simply couldn’t lie to him anymore. And it’s not like Louis was going to break up his family to fall into your arms. He’d never do that and you’d never ask him to, so now you’re both stuck in some weird pseudo-relationship, lying to his husband every chance you get,” Niall finishes with a disapproving raise of his eyebrow that Harry totally deserves for being a selfish prick. “And Thomas happens to think very highly of you by the way,” he adds as if Harry doesn’t feel shitty enough already. “He knows how important you are to Lou so he invites you to everything. Sunday dinner is always an awkward affair I’m sure.”

“Are you quite finished?” Harry mumbles into the palms of his hands.

“Yep, I guess. I already called Lou a harlot just last night,” his friend shrugs. “You know how I like to share the love. Equal opportunity and all that.”

“How considerate,” Harry deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the headache he can feel brewing behind his eyes.

“So. How’s that memory working now?” his friend asks between annoying slurps of his drink.

“ _Great,”_ Harry rolls his eyes. _“_ Everything’s so shockingly clear I wish I could forget it again.” Or at least zap back to his real present where none of this exists. The situation here is so fucked that he’d much rather be a drunken, love-sick teenager again.

“Well, cheer up,” Niall claps solidly him on the back. “Saturday will be here before you know it and then we’ll all be forced to suffer with you.”

“Why?” he frowns. “What’s Saturday?” Not that it matters. Harry hopes to be long gone by then.

“Ethan’s birthday of course. What, did you forget that too? Louis and Thomas have been throwing this thing every year since they adopted him so I don’t know how.”

He vaguely remembers Louis saying something about that. Most of it was lost in the steady stream of ‘ _This can’t be happening’_ he kept repeating in his head.

“Well, I’m not going. I can’t. I couldn’t possibly lie that way.” Even if Harry were going to be here, there’s no way he could show his face after what he has done.

“Yeah, and that’s really admirable and all,” Niall nods. “But you’re forgetting that you’re Ethan’s godfather, so unfortunately, mate, I don’t think you have much of a choice. You’re Lily’s godfather too. Thought I’d remind you in case you forgot that as well.” Harry cradles his head again, certain it’s going explode from how hard it’s now pounding. “Told you it was fucked up,” Niall shrugs as he gets started on Harry’s frappuccino that he hasn’t even touched.

*

Despite his best hopes, Harry doesn’t zap back to his present as quickly as he did during his first trip. He only spent a few hours as a law student but he has been here as a dickhead lawyer for days. _Four_ days to be exact, and Harry doesn’t know how to leave. At this point, he’s scared he may not be able to.

He had told Niall that he would not be attending the big birthday party for his four-year-old godson that everyone keeps bringing up, but that was back when he assumed his words had no consequence. Harry has spent the last four days hiding out in his giant flat avoiding his job, his responsibilities, and everything within his future life including his best friend who hasn’t stopped calling since he crept out of Harry’s bed on Tuesday during their regularly scheduled romp.

Now, Harry’s hiding in a tiny garden chair between Liam and Niall, nursing a beer to help him ignore the dumb dinosaur party hat strapped to his head and the way Louis keeps hopefully glancing over at him from his husband’s side.

“Jesus, Haz, this is a _party_. Look more depressed, would you?” Liam mutters next to him, frowning as he attempts and fails to wipe pizza sauce off his two-year-old daughter’s face whom Harry didn’t even know existed until a few days ago. Her father looks stressed about the state of her pink dress, but she’s adorable. Just like her five-year-old sister, Elizabeth, who’s currently playing in the grass with Louis’ two-year-old daughter, Lily. Yet two more amazing children Harry doesn’t know who smiled upon seeing him arrive.

“I am not depressed,” Harry counters, only for Niall to snort and roll his eyes. “I’m _not_. I’m just… I don’t know,” he sighs.

He has no name for the sense of loneliness and guilt he feels being here. His friends all turned into amazing husbands and fathers and all Harry has done is try to mimic them by selfishly loving someone he knows he can never truly have.

“He’s just whining because he’s still avoiding Lou,” Niall answers for him, earning a very pointed look because Harry isn’t avoiding anybody. He’s simply biding his time until fate smiles on him and sends him back to where he came from, or his conscience eats him alive. Whichever comes first.

“Really? What’s going on with you two? Did something happen?” Liam asks in a hushed voice so his and Niall’s wives can’t hear.

 _“No_ , nothing happened. I’ve just been busy.”

“Yeah, busy avoiding Lou,” Niall snorts. This time, Harry kicks at his foot regardless of all the young eyes surrounding them.

“I am _not_ avoiding him,” Harry insists.

“Oh. Well, good,” Niall says with a smug grin. “Because from here it looks like heathen number two’s making up an excuse so he can go inside and take you along, but, maybe I’m wrong.”

Harry follows Niall’s gaze to Louis kissing Thomas’ cheek before handing off their son to him and announcing to everyone that more drinks will be out soon. Louis walks over to them just as Niall predicted, kindly smiling and nodding at everyone he passes, but he saves the biggest and best grin for Harry.

“Haz? Want to give me a hand in the kitchen real quick?” he asks, shooting Niall a death glare when he sniggers at his choice of phrasing and nearly chokes on his beer.

Harry’s immediate instinct is to say yes. It has been for their whole lives every time Louis has asked him to do anything at all, but he’s never felt so conflicted about it until now.

“Just to help out with the drinks, right?” Harry checks.

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Louis chuckles. “That’s what I just said. Come on.” He starts walking towards his and Thomas’ massive house as if Harry’s supposed to just go with him. And Harry does, ignoring his friends’ judgmental eyes and Thomas’ kind ones as he cautiously follows along.

The back door shuts behind them and a quick look around the place leaves Harry just as awestruck with their impressive home as when he first arrived. Everything about it is beautiful from the high ceilings held up by smooth stone columns to the happy family photos adorning the walls that would be almost believable if not for the way Louis keeps looking at him now that they’re alone.

“You grab a few bottles of water and beer out of the fridge while I make some more lemonade?”

“Yeah, Lou. Sure,” Harry nods with a relieved sigh, just glad that this quick trip inside is actually for drinks and not something more intimate like he had feared. However, their fingers somehow wind up being laced together without Harry moving so much as an inch, and suddenly, he can almost taste Louis’ words as he whispers them against his lips.

“Thank you,” he grins making butterflies take flight inside Harry’s stomach when he presses a grateful kiss to his mouth.

Harry’s head instinctively turns toward the giant glass door he’s pressed against and Louis fondly rolls his eyes. “You know nobody can see us in here,” he laughs, playfully pulling the door’s long white curtain into Harry’s line of vision.

His hands find their way beneath Harry’s shirt, teasingly tugging at his waistband.

“Louis, no. W-We can’t. You said we were just getting more drinks. We have to go back out there.”

“And we will,” Louis says, gently nipping at Harry’s bottom lip. “I’ve just missed you so fucking much. I’ve barely seen you at all this week.”

When their lips meet, Louis’ tongue creates little flames inside of him, igniting the pit of his stomach until he almost forgets why that’s such a bad thing. His touch is like oxygen, filling Harry’s lungs after too short a breath, but it’s thick too; dense and suffocating him to the point of panic as Louis starts backing them further into the house.

They don’t go far, just a small study off to the side that Harry loses sight of the moment the door slams shut behind them and Louis sinks to his knees. Every fiber of Harry’s being wants this; to be loved and touched by the person he loves who loves him back, but he can’t have it. Neither of them can. Not like this.

“Louis. I told you we can’t,” Harry says softly, placing one of his hands over Louis’ to stop him from unbuttoning his jeans. Louis tries swatting his hands away, promising that he’ll be quick, but Harry stops him once more, forcing Louis to stand with his brow furrowed in concern.

“What’s the matter, love?” He runs his hands up Harry’s biceps to gently cup his face and Harry instinctually leans into his touch, committing it to memory because it’s the last time he’ll have it. At least in this future anyway. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah. I’m fine, Lou. I’m great.”

Louis looks happy to hear that. “Good,” he grins, pressing up on his toes to kiss him, however, his lips touch nothing but cheek when Harry turns his head. His frown is much deeper this time, his annoyance with Harry clear in his expression. “What’s up with you lately? You’ve been acting weird all week. Ignoring me. Not answering my calls or texts. We didn’t even see each other on Thursday and that’s _our_ day.”

He still can’t believe they even have days. That their relationship boils down to having each other for a few hours per week.

“I-I know.” He feels like shit for avoiding his best friend, wondering yet again why he’s still stuck here after spending all of this week cooped up in his flat pretending he wasn’t there. “I’m sorry,” he offers, wishing more than anything that they could’ve spent that time together.

“Well, don’t be,” Louis says with a small chuckle, their forgotten Thursday date already forgiven. “Just be with me now, yeah? Just for a few minutes.” He leans in for another kiss, huffing in frustration when Harry pulls away from him yet again. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Nothing, Louis. We just- we _can’t_. We need to talk.”

“We can’t _what_?” Louis groans. “God, I wish you’d stop saying that. It’s so annoying.”

“I mean, we can’t do _this_ ,” Harry wildly gestures between them because it should be more than obvious. “Louis, we can’t actually be together. You’re married. To _Thomas_. You two have a family together. A _life_.”

“So what?” he exclaims. “Since when do you fucking care? If you didn’t want me to marry him you should’ve said so five years ago!” That stings. It hurts, but it’s true. “You could’ve said something, Harry, but you didn’t! You waited, and waited, and now, it’s too late.”

“This _is_ my fault,” Harry tells him. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean that _this_ is right.”

Louis’ phone vibrates in his back pocket, but he doesn’t reach for it. He doesn’t even blink as he watches Harry inhale deeply and take his hands in his. Harry has never had to break up with somebody before and he’s sure it sucks no matter what, but having to do it to his best friend hurts just as much as leaving him a crumpled mess on the floor of his and Anna’s dingy flat.

“Louis, I love you so much-” he begins but Louis immediately cuts him off.

“ _Don’t_ ,” he warns through a clenched jaw but Harry presses forward anyway ignoring his own phone now vibrating in his pocket.

“I love you so much, but this thing between us has to stop.”

“Haz, do not do this,” he warns again, his anger disintegrating into heart wrenching desperation as he shakes his head in denial. “Look, whatever’s going on here can be fixed, Harry. We can fix it. I’ll do whatever you want just please don’t do this to me; to _us_ ,” he sniffs as hot tears begin to pool in his eyes. “I need you.”

“Except, you don’t need me, Lou,” Harry assures him. “You think you do, but you already have everything without me. That’s the whole problem. It’s why we have to end it.”

“No, the only problem here is _you_ ,” he spits, his anger flaring up again with more fire than ever. “You don’t get to keep doing this to me! Showing up and saying shit to change our lives whenever you fucking feel like it! I was fine loving you when I _thought_ there was no chance you could ever love me back. I had accepted it. I was happy to marry Thomas if I couldn’t have you, but I refuse to fucking do that again. _I won’t_.”

The sound of footsteps outside the room makes them both go still. Harry is hardly even breathing when he finally checks his phone, heart plummeting to his stomach when he sees the screen full of ignored warning messages from Niall. His and Louis’ gazes are both trained on the door as it swings open after three polite knocks, watching as the man he and Louis were just heatedly discussing pops his head into the room.

“Is everything okay?” Thomas asks, widening the door to step through it. “I heard shouting. Are you two alright?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” Louis answers with a terse nod, scrubbing away the tears on his cheeks which only serves to dislodge even more of them. “I-I’ll be right out in a second. I’m fine.”

“Baby, you’re crying. You’re not fine.”

“I said I’ll be right outside in a minute. Just let me finish talking to Harry first,” Louis insists, looking about one more worried look from his husband away from screaming again.

Thomas glances between Louis and Harry standing apart, yet close enough that he knows something isn’t quite right. “I’m not leaving you. Not when you’re this upset.”

“Well, I’m not upset. And, I don’t want you here for this. It’s just a dumb misunderstanding, so go back to the party,” Louis tries but Thomas doesn’t move. “I swear I will tell you everything that’s going on later, but for right now it’s _private_ and I just want to talk to my best friend alone.”

The stare-off between them stretches for so long causing Harry’s discomfort to rise even more. Neither of them looks like he’s backing down anytime soon and all Harry wants is to not be here. He wishes it; chants it in the back of his mind hoping time will zap him back to his present. It doesn’t work. The silence stretches on, and when Thomas finally breaks it, Harry feels sick.

“It’s not like I don’t already know what’s going on, Lou. You can just tell me the truth. You don’t have to lie and push me away.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Louis groans as he cradles his head. “You don’t know anything because there’s nothing to know.”

“I know that you love him,” Thomas counters. “And he loves you. Always has.” According to everyone on the planet, that has been obvious from day one, so Harry’s not surprised Thomas picked up on it. “I also know something between you changed a year ago. At first, I wasn’t sure what, but I figured out that you were sleeping together almost immediately. I’m not stupid, Lou.”

The air is so thick that Harry is having trouble pulling it into his lungs. Louis blinks at his husband with wide eyes, not even attempting to wipe away all the tears now racing down his cheeks. “So- What? You just _let_ me lie to you and sneak around behind your back and make an idiot out of myself? This whole fucking time?! Why on Earth would you do something like that? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because. You’re finally happy.” Thomas shrugs like it’s the simplest concept in the world. “You have been happier with him this year than you have been the entire time I’ve known you, Louis. I love you so much. More than you even realize. And it sucks to know I’m not enough. That I don’t get to have all of you all the time and that I will _never_ win against him, but I will take it if it means we stay a family. _That’s_ what’s important to me. You.”

Harry would give anything to not hear the tortured sound his best friend makes when he sinks against the wall and just sobs, unable to decide which pair of arms he should run to. Thomas moves to hold him when Harry just stands there, having to make several attempts before Louis finally allows himself to be comforted. He apologizes over and over to nobody in particular through choked-off breaths that physically hurt Harry to listen to. One, because his best friend is in pain that he caused, and two, because even with the shit-show this future has turned out to be, he still loves Louis just the same. Always has. Always will.

He has never appreciated the sensation of nausea tearing through his body more than he does a few seconds later when time finally decides to pull him back to his own present. He watches the room spin and fade into nothing, erasing the image of Louis and Thomas huddled together and replacing it with Jamie’s living room and a single bottle of beer that smashes into a million little pieces at his feet.

Everything is just the same as it was the last two times Harry was here. The sound of the glass shattering pierces the room and then blankets it in silence, dozens of pairs of curious eyes are trained on him because he dropped the bottle, and then there’s Louis; beautiful as ever even with his gaze still angrily narrowed at him. He whispers that he hates Harry again and it stings, however, it hurts a little less each time he says it. Mostly because he knows Louis doesn’t really mean it.

Anna and her crew start inching their way over like snakes weaving through the crowd, but Harry stops her before she can sink her teeth into him.

“You look like you could use a little break,” she purrs once she’s at Louis’ side. The mischievous grin she’s wearing dissolves into an indignant frown when Harry rudely steps between them to block her from view.

“Haz, what the hell are you doing?” Louis grits out under his breath.

The last time Harry tried to stop him from leaving with her, he had come on too strong and made things even worse. However, this time when Harry takes his hands in his, he’s much gentler, and yet, Louis still snatches away from him. “Why are you being like this?” he hisses as his eyes scan the room filled with people watching them. “You’re embarrassing me. Stop it.”

He looks genuinely offended and Harry could scream because no matter what he does Louis is still mad. Unlike Harry who has been through hell and back tonight being forced to live their future destinies over and over again, Louis has no idea that life can get so much worse than making a scene at some dumb school party. Harry trying to save his life is what matters here, but the resentment and embarrassment that Louis feels right now are very much real. Trivial or not.

Anna leaves with her friends just like before, fixing him with a scathing look as she’s forced to leave Louis behind. Harry is grateful to see her go without much of a fight, but his relief only lasts a few seconds when he catches sight of Niall coming over to play referee.

“Oi, what’s going on with you two?”

Louis scoffs in reply, giving Harry a scathing look of his own. “No idea. Why don’t you ask _him_. He’s the one acting like a prick.”

“Well?” Niall turns to him with a raised brow that Harry _knows_ is only being aimed at him out of genuine concern, but the last time he let Niall interfere, Louis ended up married to a man he didn’t love, Harry turned out to be a selfish arsehole who couldn’t leave well enough alone, and they were both miserable because of it.

“Niall. No offense, but back off. Just stay out of this,” he says.

His friend blinks back in surprise at that. Harry feels terrible for saying something so awful, but it had to be done. For all their sakes.

“I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink,” Niall insists, not at all backing down. “Maybe you should call it a night. Sober up.”

“Fantastic idea,” Louis quips. “I agree with Niall one-hundred percent.”

The room is still watching them, which doesn’t necessarily bother Harry since they’re all pretty much irrelevant to whatever happens next. The person who does bother him however is the tall sandy-haired man in the crowd who looks at Louis as if he’s the sun even now, years before he inevitably puts a ring on Louis’ finger.

“I’m not drunk,” Harry tells his friends after he tears his gaze away from Thomas who is clearly interested in the developing situation, but has yet to speak up. “And, I’m not going anywhere either. I’m staying right here,” he says with finality.

No one seems very impressed with his bold declaration. Niall just blinks at him like he has totally lost it, and Louis huffs in annoyance, his eyes rolling once again.

“Fine, then. Stay if you want,” Louis shrugs indifferently. “Doesn’t mean _I_ have to. I didn’t want to come here in the first place so I’m going home,” he mutters before walking towards the door. Harry begins to panic, his thoughts racing past one another to try and predict what kind of future Louis is creating for them by leaving. “Without _you_ ,” he clarifies when Harry tries to reach for his hand.

“Wait up. I’ll walk with you. It’s late,” Niall says after a beat, hurrying to catch up with his friend after a wordless conversation across the room between him and Liam to split up and look after the two of them.

Louis doesn’t say goodbye when he leaves, but something does make him glance over his shoulder at him. He may be more than a little annoyed with Harry at the moment, as well as slightly intoxicated, but the fact still remains that they’re best friends. Louis still loves him and can’t help checking on him even in the aftermath of the worst fight they’ve ever had, which is why a sense of hope fills Harry’s chest just before the room starts to swirl and fade around him. They’re going to be alright this time. They have to be.


	3. Chapter 3

Each time Harry has been thrust into the future has left him feeling sick. Almost like he’s been spun too many times in the wash and then dumped somewhere else in time in some bed he’s never seen before, but never on the floor. And never has he woken up with the room still spinning, feeling so queasy that he may actually throw up.  

The old hardwood beneath him is sticky where his face is pressed against it, forced to inhale the stench of musty beer until someone kindly rolls him onto his back. When he dares to crack his eyes open again, the room and his focus steady enough to recognize Liam hovering over him to try and sit him up. Harry has no idea where he is at first, trying to make sense of the dim lighting above and the smoggy air condensing inside his lungs. The puzzle only comes together for him after Liam keeps telling him it’s closing time and the bright, neon _open_ sign hanging in the window flickers off.

He can’t remember much at the moment. How exactly he ended up in this pub and why he drank so fucking much on this future night are both mysteries, but the image of Louis and Niall leaving Jamie’s house is still crystal clear in his mind. 

“Where’s Lou?” He mumbles it, his tongue almost too heavy and alcohol-soaked to say the words correctly. “Where is he? And Niall too.”

His questions go unanswered as Liam hoists him onto his feet with one of Harry’s arms limply thrown over his shoulders. They both groan when he’s upright, Liam from the effort of supporting mostly dead weight, and Harry at the sight of the room turning, feeling much more nauseous leaning against the sticky wall than he ever did while lying on the sticky floor.

“Haz, please. Not tonight,” Liam sighs, avoiding his eyes as he works to take the place of the wall holding Harry up. “Come on. We have to get you to the car now. I need you to walk.” The moment Harry tries to take a step his knee wobbles under the pressure, sending him slumping back down the wall. His own slow laughter fills his ears along with Liam quietly swearing under his breath.

His friend doesn’t look very happy to be scraping his drunk arse off the floor again when he hoists him up for a second time. Mostly, he just seems incredibly annoyed with him, his thick eyebrows all scrunched up and angry-looking like a grumpy puppy.

“You won’t let me see Lou,” Harry whines in lieu of moving one foot in front of the other as Liam requested. “Oh, God, I know why,” Harry snorts to himself, nearly sending them both stumbling to the ground when his head lolls back. “Let me guess. We’re _married_. Or, no, wait! Louis and Niall ran off after Jamie’s party, and _they_ got married.”

The idea of either of those things happening is as hilarious as Harry and Niall winding up together, and yet his friend just stares at him like Harry just slapped him across the face. There is no trace of amusement in his brown eyes and it sobers Harry a bit, having never seen his friend so stricken.

“You know that’s not funny, Haz. Why would you say something like that?” he whispers. “You know they’re gone.” Harry squirms the longer Liam eyes him with concern, and suddenly, Harry isn’t feeling quite so humorous anymore. “Come on, H. We’ve got to go,” Liam says, taking hold of him again.

“W-Wait.” Harry stops them from walking, gripping onto Liam’s shirt for balance when they sway. “What does that mean, _gone_?” Whatever he meant by it makes Harry’s ribcage feel as though it’s coated in steel. Like a giant weight is trapped inside his ribcage and growing by the second the longer Liam stares at him like he’s insane for even bringing Louis and Niall up.

“Harry, they’re dead,” Liam frowns at him, his expression turning soft when Harry all but stops breathing, struggling to pull fresh air into his lungs. “They’ve been gone two years now. You know that.”

His friend lets out a weary sigh as he helps Harry regain his footing once again. Harry’s stomach rolls with every step. He has never felt so sick in his life and it’s not even from the alcohol. The combination of every drink he shoved down his throat tonight comes rushing back up leaving him wincing in pain and Liam trying to hide a disgusted wince of his own as he helps him up again.

The backseat of the car he’s lying in is warm and feels so much better than the hard floor he passed out on. He assumes the car belongs to Liam since he’s driving it, and the girl he’s speaking to in hushed whispers and holding hands with across the middle console must be his girlfriend; his future wife in a few years if she’s the same remarkable woman Harry met earlier tonight at the birthday party. She’s one of two remarkable women he met, though he guesses the other is missing since Niall never got a chance to meet her. Liam apologizes to his girlfriend a dozen times for a date that must’ve been cut short tonight. Harry realizes he was the reason for that when she brushes off Liam’s apology and glances back at him with sympathetic eyes.

“He needs you, babe,” she whispers. “He doesn’t have anyone else.”

They roll to a stop outside of a house that Harry actually recognizes. It’s his own, the windows all darkened except for his mother’s room on the top floor and the front door where she’s waiting in the threshold.

“They called me when he wouldn’t leave again,” Liam relays as he helps Harry into the living room and gently lies him down on the couch. “He was out cold when I got there. He was talking nonsense when he woke up. Something about them. About wanting to go back?”

Harry feels a soft hand comb his hair away from his forehead and wipe tears off his cheeks. He hadn’t even realize he’d been crying or that he still is, his throat thick with hot tears that just keep coming.

“Thank you for always looking out for him.” His mother’s voice is the only piece of comfort Harry has felt since he arrived in this time and even that makes his chest ache because she sounds so heartbroken.

When his friend leaves, Harry feels his absence like a missing limb which is nothing compared to the piece of his soul that feels missing without Niall and Louis here.

This place isn’t real. Nothing about it has even an inkling of truth and on some level, he knows that. That it’s just another fucked up glimpse into a future that _could_ be, however the guilt and the pain he feels here are more genuine than any other place he has been.

“ _Mum_ ,” he croaks out and she’s there in an instant, shushing him as she pulls him as far into her lap as possible. It doesn’t work as well as it did when he was a little boy but it makes him feel a little less like he’s falling apart at the seams. There is no judgement in her eyes when he says it’s all his fault. She just holds him closer and disputes every confession he makes.

“You know that’s not true. What happened that night was not your fault, Harry.”

“But, _I_ made them both leave. They left because of _me_ ,” he sobs. Louis certainly left because of him, and because Niall didn’t think it was safe for him to walk home alone that late at night, he volunteered to go with him. By letting them leave, Harry inadvertently killed them both, ruining any chance of a future they may have had. “I-I have to go back. I can change it all if they just stay.”

“Baby, we’ve been over this a million times,” she whispers. “You and Louis had an argument like _all_ people sometimes do. That doesn’t make it your fault. You weren’t the drunk person behind the wheel who hit them.”

No, but he was the idiot who sent his best friends out to get killed and he’s now the idiot who can hardly see straight after attempting to drink away the memory of everything that happened that night.

“And, I know you wish you could go back to that night and save them. We all do, baby, but we can’t. We can’t change the past.”

He can. He just has to get there first.

 

*

It feels like a drum is being pounded right in the center of Harry’s skull when he wakes up the next day. He had hoped to wake up in some other universe where things don’t hurt as badly, and yet, he’s still here, throat raw from the combined result of drinking himself into oblivion the night before and then crying himself to sleep. He’s clammy, his mouth tastes awful, and his hands shake no matter how hard he tries to keep them still because his mother has only brought him water to drink instead of the alcohol his body apparently now needs to function.  

He lies in bed so long wishing he could be anywhere else that the sun’s yellow rays begin to shift down his bedroom walls to usher in the afternoon. Eventually, his mother knocks and stops pretending to believe he’s been asleep all this time.

“Love, you need to get out of bed and get cleaned up if you’re going to see Jay. It’s almost noon,” she informs him from the edge of his bed when she gingerly sits down on it with a fresh bottle of water in hand. She places it on the bedside table next to the other one Harry could only stomach taking a sip of.

“Wait. What?” He squints against the sunshine, his heart clenching in his chest just hearing her name. “Why would I go over to Louis’?”

“What do you mean, why, baby?” she asks with a little amused frown as if it should be obvious. “It’s Sunday.”

In the last future, it was Tuesdays and Thursdays. Louis isn’t even here in this future, but they still have their days. He isn’t forgotten by Harry or anyone else who loves him, and he never will be. Now, he’s just deeply missed.

*

Standing outside of Louis’ house feels a lot different from the other hundreds of thousands of times he has done it. He has stood on these very steps almost every day since he was eight-years-old and felt pure adrenaline coursing through him just knowing his best friend was about to yank open the door or come bounding out of it to greet him. That excitement changed a bit over the years; the impatient drumming of his fingers against his leg matured to an eager thudding of his heart and butterflies in his stomach, but Louis was always there. Not like now, when Harry can hardly breathe knowing that he’s not.

There is no pair of bright blue eyes or mischievous, crinkled smiles when the door swings open today. Just a light brown pair that hold a similar twinkle and a big smile for him that is bright, but not quite as bright as Harry knows it could be.

“ _Harry.”_ His name is spoken with a fondness that makes him smile too as he’s pulled in for a hug that feels like so much more than a hello. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too. I’ve missed you,” Harry tells her, unsure of exactly how long it has been, but either way, it’s probably true. Jay has always been like a second mother to him. “How are you?”

The light behind her eyes, brilliant even with the absence of her eldest child, dims a bit at his question.

“Oh, you know. Same as always,” she shrugs. “I’m alright. Everything is great.”

Harry doesn’t let on to the fact that she’s a terrible liar, accepting her kind invitation to come inside while she puts the kettle on.

The Tomlinson household has always been a bit boisterous. With a family of seven, it’s hard to imagine it any other way. The bright energy and spirit of Louis’ family has always been Harry’s favorite part about being an unofficial member of it. However, something about the mood is a little off today and probably has been for the past two years. Today, the house is still. Eerily calm in a way Harry has never experienced and hopes to never experience again in any future.

“You seem quiet today, love,” Jay comments after they each take a sip of their tea.

“Er- Do I?” Harry frowns down at his mug wondering what he’s usually so chatty about when being here without Louis feels like this. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” she says, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Sometimes it’s nice to just sit and not talk so much.”

“What do we usually talk about?”

A small grin tugs at her lips. “Lots of things. Anything,” she answers. “Mostly him of course.”

Harry had been wondering when Louis would come up, but he didn’t expect the tight feeling in his chest that comes with it. When he looks up from the table, Jay’s hand is holding his again, her eyes soft with empathy.

“I spoke to Anne this morning… She told me about last night.”

His mother had been so worried about him. He guesses that’s what a lot of people in this future spend their time doing. “I’m okay. I got carried away at the pub. I- I shouldn’t have drank so much.”

Jay nods in understanding, but the concern doesn’t fade from her gaze. “She thinks…We both think,” she corrects. “That maybe it’s time to talk about therapy again. Or maybe even rehab?”

Jay squeezes his hand to still it when it trembles beneath hers, only now occurring to Harry that she’s the reason it hasn’t been shaking as much. “I-I’m fine. I don’t need-”

“No, there’s no shame in needing help. You and I both know that,” she admits quietly. “Talking to someone about all this is what keeps me sane, but this is different. The drinking is different, Harry, and eventually, it’ll-” She takes a deep breath as her eyes close. “Please don’t make me go through losing you too. Please.”

His throat is burning when he looks up at Jay, but he forces himself to remain composed. “I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.” It’s an empty promise and also a blatant lie, but it’s the least he can do after first, taking her son away, and now, scaring her all over again every time he picks up a bottle to try and get rid of the guilt.

He stands to wrap her in a tight hug that she immediately returns. He has no idea how long they hold each other, but his throat is no longer burning when they let go, the threat of tears no longer an issue now that they’ve both shed a few.

“Are you going up today?” she asks as she thumbs away tear tracks from both of their faces.

“Where?”

“To his room,” she gestures towards the ceiling. “You haven’t in a while. I thought it might help. You know it always does for me.”

The journey up to Louis’ bedroom is even stranger than walking over to the house earlier. The door is closed for one thing which looks odd considering Louis always left it open for anyone to come in. Harry expects to be hit with his familiar scent when he’s finally brave enough to push open the door, but after two years of being neglected, the air inside his room smells just like the rest of the house.

Harry isn’t sure what Jay meant by insisting it helps to come up here when he closes the door behind him. All of Louis’ things are still here hanging on the walls and piled on the floor as if he’s coming back for them. Nothing has been moved from the last time he was in here; the night of Jamie’s party when Harry’s biggest concern was being separated from Louis for a year. His football uniform is still draped across the back of his desk chair. His bed is still unmade and covered in the array of different things he considered trying on before deciding on Harry’s old Guns N Roses t-shirt in the end.

Being in here doesn’t help. Not at all. Nothing about this makes Harry feel anything besides a pain that won’t go away and anger for being sent here in the first place. He doesn’t understand the point of a future where being alive hurts this much simply because Louis isn’t.

He sits down on the edge of the bed when his chest feels as though it’s caving in on itself from missing him, unsure of how he and everybody else has been doing this for two years when he hasn’t even been in this future for twenty-four hours and it’s already killing him. His breaths are coming too fast in the wake of tears that fall much faster than he can scrub them away. When he lies down, it’s with one of Louis’ hoodies that holds only faint traces of his scent, but it comforts Harry anyway just holding something that was his.

Over and over again, he tells the empty room that he just wants to go back, but nothing happens. There is no feeling of being sucked down a drain. The scene before him doesn’t start to spin and fade like all the times before. He’s just stuck here, crying into an old hoodie with no clue how to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

Louis’ room is just as still and quiet when he blinks himself awake later on as it was when he cried himself to sleep in it hours before. Harry rubs at his eyes, noting the new golden tint to the yellow sunshine that had been pouring in through the window. He must have been resting up here half the day and yet nobody came in to check on him in all that time. It’s only after he sits up in a different bed than the one he curled up in earlier that he realizes why that is.

Everything around him has changed from the faded blue paint on the walls that are now a soft grey to the hoodie he fell asleep clutching to his chest but has now mysteriously vanished. This place doesn’t resemble any of the other futures he’s been to or even anywhere Harry has been in the past, but it feels like something familiar. Maybe it’s in the old guitar leaning against the wall or the various piles of clothing on the floor, but this room feels like home.

His head is no longer pounding like a drum, and thankfully, his stomach isn’t churning on itself anymore. His hands haven’t trembled once since he woke up, but a quick glance down at them momentarily stops his heart. In every other future, his ring finger has remained bare, unlike right now with the beautiful silver band resting against his knuckle with the tiny emeralds glittering along its edges. He’s just reading the small inscription on the inside of the ring that reads ‘ _always_ ’ when a door opening and closing somewhere and a call of his name makes his breath catch in his throat.

Harry is up and across the bedroom as fast as his bare feet will carry him to follow the sounds of someone arriving home. All around Harry are signs of this flat being half his as he navigates through it while there are other things that make no sense at all like the stuffed elephant and other random toys he has to step over once he gets to the living room.

“Haz! Babe, we’re back!” someone calls again from what appears to be the kitchen, sending Harry’s heartbeat racing because he knows that voice.  

“Lou?”

As soon as his feet hit the tiled floor, a tiny, excited voice that he doesn’t recognize fills the room to greet him by a name he’s never been called before.

“ _Daddy_!”

A mess of ginger curls comes bounding over from across the room, wrapping Harry’s legs in a tight embrace. He barely even has time to acknowledge the hug before the little girl goes skipping off towards the living room and Louis notices him standing in the doorway, aiming an amused grin in Harry’s direction as he animatedly recounts the events of their shopping trip.

“I tried talking her into keeping the princess costume but she jumped ship as soon as we got to Niall’s and she saw that Elliot’s going to be a zombie for Halloween instead of Spiderman, so naturally, Emma now wants to be a zombie too. So, after leaving Ni’s and dropping off all the party stuff at Liam’s, we then went _back_ to the costume shop to find face paint so our daughter can be an undead royal. I figured you could do the honors? We both know I’m shit at painting.”

Louis holds up several tubes of face paint as evidence, his grin turning into a small frown when he notices Harry staring at the sliver ring on his left hand encrusted with blue sapphires.

“Haz? What is it?”

Harry has been through hell and back so many times tonight that he has lost count. He has no recollection of how the hell he ended up here, but he’s so grateful that he did. Here, in a future where they finally got it right somehow. Where they have a daughter together, and a home, and a whole amazing life that they’ve built.

He walks the few feet separating him from his husband and connects their mouths the way he’s been longing to ever since Louis first asked him to in his dingy flat with Anna or when Louis wasn’t even his to have this way. In the last future, Louis wasn’t even alive so Harry doesn’t take one single moment of their kiss for granted, his heart so relieved and full that it’s overflowing with each brush of their lips.

Louis pulls back wearing a dazed smirk that grows concerned again when he hears Harry sniff to hold back the tears quickly forming in his eyes. “Love, what’s the matter? What happened?” he asks as he thumbs at the few that manage to escape.

“Nothing,” Harry answers, leaning into every touch. “I’m sorry. I just missed you.”

His husband snorts at that like Harry has lost his mind. “Okay, I was gone for like, an hour tops,” he points out, but seems flattered nonetheless, not arguing one bit when Harry interrupts him and captures his lips again just for the hell of it, with no intention of ever letting him go.

*

It’s nearly midnight when they arrive back home with Louis carrying their exhausted three-year-old inside who fell asleep on his shoulder half an hour ago, and Harry carrying her massive bag of candy that he and Louis have been sneaking treats from all evening, still reeling from the fact that this is his life.

“I’m just going to go clean her up really quick and tuck her in. Will you lock up?”

“Yeah, Lou. Sure. You go ahead,” Harry agrees, watching his husband expertly walk through Emma’s toy minefield with his white Prince Charming jacket covered in smeared zombie makeup.

Harry locks up the flat as he was asked and then places Emma’s candy bag out of reach on the kitchen counter so she doesn’t eat herself into a sweets coma. He grins at all the small things that make up their lives like all the bright scribble drawings stuck to the fridge and the family calendar lying on the table with all the important dates for the month jotted down in Harry’s neat writing. Used and discarded coffee mugs appear in pairs all over the flat, photos of them from childhood to now grace the walls, and their bedroom looks and smells like the perfect blend of the two of them.

He’s sitting at the foot of their bed reveling in their shared space when Louis comes stumbling in a few minutes later, kicking off his shoes and removing the golden crown perched on top of his head with a sigh when he remembers it’s still there. He places it next to the matching one that Harry wore all night even though Emma wasn’t too impressed with their coordinating costumes when she was so immensely pleased with her own and the fact that it matched her best friend’s. Sort of.

“Remind me to be something easy and more comfortable next year like Niall’s half-arsed attempt at a costume,” his husband mutters as he shrugs out of his regal jacket and lets it fall to the floor.

“He was a superhero,” Harry grins, making Louis roll his eyes. “Clark Kent.”

“No, he was lazy as fuck and threw on a pair of glasses. At least Clark Kent wore a tie,” Louis deadpans as he yanks his t-shirt over his head and steps out of his jeans, creating yet another small mountain of clothing surrounding them.

He takes a step to the left towards his side of the bed, his lips curling up enough to crinkle his eyes when Harry’s fingers find themselves intertwined with his to keep him there. Louis moves to stand in the triangle of Harry’s legs, eyes alight with curiosity as Harry marvels at the sight before him. After all this time, here and even in the past, Harry still can’t believe he’s real.

“What?” he chuckles just like he did the last time Harry was this mesmerized by him and his golden skin. “You’ve been looking at me like that all night.”

“H-Have I? ‘M sorry,” Harry breathes, butterflies flooding his stomach when Louis crawls into his lap. Louis’ thighs tighten around his hips until they are chest to chest and every breath Harry takes is filled with him.

“I wasn’t looking for an apology, love,” he whispers, overwhelming every one of Harry’s senses when their lips finally meet.   

*

For two glorious days, Harry has had the pleasure of falling asleep and waking up in a world where his husband is his best friend and their family is the single best thing to ever happen to him; to ever happen to _them_. Every second here is a gift from the long walks they all take through the park on Sunday mornings to playing follow the leader in the mirror at night to get Emma to brush her teeth. There are things in this future that Harry never imagined could mean so much like a thank you kiss on the lips from his husband for cooking dinner or a thank you kiss to the cheek from his daughter for playing princess tea party for a whole hour. This life is perfect. It’s more than Harry could’ve hoped for in a million years, and until he is pulled back to his rightful place in time, he intends to soak up as much of it as possible.

“What would you be doing right now if this were just a normal day?”

Louis’ eyes crinkle up as he relinquishes his hold around Harry’s waist, uncurling himself to lie back on the pillows and properly consider his question.

“On a normal day? Well, love, for starters, I’d be at work so I probably wouldn’t be _this_ naked. _Probably_ ,” he jokes, earning himself a swift pinch to the bare thigh still slung over Harry’s hips. “I don’t know, H,” Louis grins to himself. “It’s late, so around this time in the afternoon I’d probably be getting ready to leave the office to go get Emma from Niall’s. I’m usually wondering what to pick up for dinner for us because Mondays were _not_ made for cooking…” he explains. “And mostly, I’d just be anxious to get back home to you. Best part of my day.”

All of that sounds wonderful; a life better than anything Harry could possibly dream.

“We’re definitely never doing _this_ ,” Louis smirks after a beat, moving to pillow his head on Harry’s chest once again. “Taking the whole day off like this to just be with each other. It’s been so nice. And, god, I can’t remember the last time we had this much sex. I’m sore and exhausted in the _best_ possible way,” he hums, happily adding another tiny love bite to Harry’s chest to accentuate all the ones from Halloween and the night before that have started to fade.

Harry frowns at that as his husband continues showering him with affection.

“Wait. We don’t have sex?”

Louis meets his gaze with a perplexed frown of his own before giving him a fond roll of his eyes.

“Of course we have sex, Haz. You know we do, just not usually _five_ times in one day,” he laughs. “Not since our uni days anyway.”

The worried crinkle between Harry’s eyebrows doesn’t go away and his husband notices it, rolling his eyes at him again the way he used to when they were kids and Harry was being stubborn or difficult. Except, this isn’t like that because Harry isn’t getting cold feet about sneaking out of his mum’s house or stealing extra sweets when no one was looking. This is their life and their marriage. One in which Harry can’t even fathom the two of them not taking time for one another.

“Well, we’re a little busy, love,” Louis chuckles at his offended expression, attempting to erase it with a kiss to his jaw. “We can’t just hang out in our dorm rooms all day having sex every chance we get. You just quit the firm like you always talked about to open the bookshop and it’s doing _so_ well. Work for me is going well too and the agency finally let us bring Emma home, so now we’re _dads_ ,” his husband gushes, smiling so big his eyes crinkle up to almost nothing. “So, we’re both tired sometimes, but that’s only because a lot of our energy now goes to more important things like our family, but I’ll take it. I don’t mind,” he smiles.

Harry can feel the love between them just from the way Louis talks about all their amazing accomplishments together. What they had in the other future with Thomas was love too; enough to make him and Louis risk everything just to have one another for a few moments, but this doesn’t feel like that. This is something so calm and content and strong between their hearts that even Harry doesn’t quite understand it; something he’ll have to live in real time to fully comprehend.

“But- But you’re happy though, right?” Harry checks. “ _We‘re_ happy?”

“ _What_?” Louis gives him another ludicrous look like he’s insane. “ _Us_? Baby, _of course_ we are,” he laughs, the blue of his eyes disappearing again with his smile. “I honestly don’t think I could be any happier. You were it for me from the start.”

Harry just wishes he knew when exactly the start was.

“You still can’t remember what happened that night?” he asks, lacing their hands together so their wedding bands touch. “That night at Jamie’s house?” That had been one of the first things Harry asked when he randomly showed up in this future only to find out that Louis isn’t too sure of how they got here either.

A loud snort fills the room as Louis tries once again to recall the events of that night to no avail. “Is it horrible that I _still_ have no fucking idea?” he laughs, looking half as amused as he looks sorry for not being able to remember such a monumental moment in their history. “God, we just drank so much that night, you know? All I remember is that we were arguing about something? Some boy I think.”

“Thomas. Jamie’s cousin,” Harry helpfully fills in for him. “He kissed you that night.” And then went on to build a life for himself with someone else. A handsome, dark-haired man who looks at Thomas and their two kids with as much love as Louis looks at Harry and Emma. At least that’s what Harry gathered after looking him up on social media.

“Oh, shit,” his husband snorts again. “That’s right! You were _so_ pissed!”

“Was not _,”_ he mutters, knowing that ‘more jealous than he has ever been in his entire life’ is a much better description of how he felt that night.

“You were,” Louis maintains, “And I got mad at you too for being mad at me, but- but then something changed.” So far in the past, Louis has followed Anna out of that party and ruined his life, stayed behind with Thomas and married him, and then he left on his own accord with Niall, permanently erasing any chance at a future either of them could’ve had. “It’s all fuzzy now, but we got over it; whatever was keeping us apart. We fell together somehow that night, and… I don’t know,” he shrugs. “It’s been that way ever since. Just you and me.”

******

Harry is aware of every second that passes. He counts them, fearful that the next may be his last to spend here unlike the other futures where Harry couldn’t wait to leave. Going back now wouldn’t seem so bad if he knew what to do once he gets there, but he still doesn’t. Apparently, no one does, because Liam and Niall give him the same hazy frown as if the details from that night are being remembered through muddy water. Being kept in the dark is frustrating, but Harry tries not to let the lack of specifics of that night get to him. Just being here with his husband and their daughter and seeing how amazing all their lives have turned out is proof enough that whatever he did at Jamie’s was the right thing whether he remembers it or not.

He goes to work on Tuesday, unable to sweet-talk Louis into another lazy day off. Running the book shop is simple and quiet work which seems like such a strange choice for himself given that in every other future, his job is anything but. Louis told him he stopped practicing law a few years ago which is even more confusing because going into law has always been his dream, but he guesses he found a new one.

It’s Wednesday night when Harry grins to himself watching the little pair of eyes before him twitching behind closed lids. His daughter has been asleep for hours. An evening playing dress-up and more princess tea party can be exhausting for a three-year-old as well as for him, and yet he still finds himself in her room each night, not quite ready to say goodnight.

“She’s not going to vanish into thin air if you look away from her, you know,” a familiar voice chuckles from the doorway. That may be true, but Louis still walks over to join him, hooking his chin over Harry’s shoulder to watch their daughter sleep. “I thought I might find you in here,” he says after her chest rises and falls a few times and her little fingers curl and tighten around her stuffed elephant.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, only just now realizing how long he’s been in here.

“No, love, it’s fine,” Louis grins against his shoulder. “You’ve been watching her like this a lot lately. Almost like you’re scared she’s going to disappear,” he teases.

Emma isn’t going anywhere and neither is Louis, but Harry is. He doesn’t know when, but it should be any day now. Time won’t leave him here for much longer.

“Are you heading to bed soon?” Harry asks, finally managing to tear his gaze away from their little girl.

When he faces his husband, he’s met with an adoration and a reverence that warms him from the inside out. It’s a phenomenon that happens every time Louis so much as smiles at him; a feeling Harry has associated with Louis their whole lives. Ever since the cool kid a year above him changed everything with just one word.

“Well, yeah, I was thinking about it,” Louis answers him with a grin. “I wanted to shower first. I was kind of hoping to drag you along with me?”

There is no future in which Harry wouldn’t want to be with Louis or follow him anywhere that he goes.

When Louis kisses him, Harry’s whole body sinks into it like a long-awaited sigh. He tries deepening it when the press of their lips sends sparks dancing down his spine, but doesn’t get very far with it when Louis breathes a laugh into his mouth.

“We’ve got to make it to _our_ room first. Meet you there? I think I forgot to lock up,” he chuckles, forcing himself to pull back despite the firm grasp he has on Harry’s shirt to keep him close. Harry receives a fresh kiss, much softer than the one before but no less eager for them to keep going. “Be right back,” he promises.

Louis quietly slips out of the room to go check the front door of the flat while Harry better tucks Emma in for the night, unable to stop grinning about their impromptu shower date. Her bedroom door closes with a soft click behind him, right around the same time Harry’s stomach makes a familiar lurch with his first step towards their room. He tries his hardest to discount it as nothing more than anxious butterflies, however the dreamy, distorted quality to the scene before him makes the sick feeling impossible to ignore.

The door handle he’s squeezing for dear life doesn’t stay no matter how much Harry wills it to. Everything around him fades into something else; their tiny corridor expands to become a house full of people, the warm smell of home he has come to associate with their flat these past few days is now drenched in the stench of alcohol, and the firm grip his fingers once had around his daughter’s door handle are now grasped around nothing but air as a single bottle of beer predictably goes crashing to the floor at his feet.

The sound of its pieces ricocheting and splattering across the hardwood shocks him into the present, filling him with an instant longing for the home and the family he just left. But the feeling is mixed with a newfound sense of faith and excitement because he knows he’ll be back there someday. They all will.

Everybody turns towards the commotion, but all Harry cares about is the ever-beautiful and ever-feisty man currently clinging to his arm. He glares at Harry through faded blue eyes as if he just ended the world, and all Harry can do is grin because he can still taste the kiss that the other Louis left on his lips. They’re still warm and tingling and he’s still unable to stop them from stretching across his face even with his future husband growing more annoyed with him by the second as they do.

“What exactly are you smirking about?” he demands under his breath, his heated gaze briefly leaving Harry to observe the dozens of people surrounding them. “What?” he repeats when Harry’s expression doesn’t change.

Out of the corner of Harry’s eye he can see it all falling into place once again as Anna dislodges herself from the crowd, Niall anxiously shifts his weight next to Liam, and Thomas quietly watches on; all the wrong people and the wrong choices that led them down dark roads, but there is one path they haven’t yet tried. There is one choice that grants them the world, and because the one person who can change it all now knows exactly the kind of world that awaits them, he’s finally ready to follow his gut and make it happen.

“Come with me. Let’s go back to the kitchen,” he whispers, making Louis’ brow furrow when he gently pulls his arm out of his grip and replaces it with his hand. “Just for a minute. Please?”

His imploring doesn’t make Louis admit that he loves him or make him quit looking at Harry like he’s insane, but it does make Anna stop just short of slinging her arm around Louis’ shoulders.

“Please, Lou. Just for a minute so we can talk,” Harry says again, praying that this is the right thing.

Louis glances down at their linked hands, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink with everyone watching so Harry lets go, to avoid scaring him off by coming on too strong too fast.

“Alright. For a minute,” he agrees after giving his request some thought, offering Anna a tight-lipped grin in apology when he turns to head back the way they came. Harry gladly trails behind him, more certain now than ever that they’re getting it right. Even if Louis is still mad at him.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Louis asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the island. “Or maybe you just brought me in here so you can _yell_ at me some more,” he quips.

The hard set of his jaw and slight lift to his right eyebrow are indication enough that Harry is on extremely thin ice. His brow rises higher the longer Harry stands there, knowing he owes Louis an apology, almost too distracted by his beauty to give it.

“I didn’t ask you here to yell some more,” Harry tells him, biting down on a fresh smirk when he receives a skeptical scoff in response. “Louis, I’m serious. I shouldn’t have yelled at you at all before or walked away like that. I’m so sorry I did.”

“As you should be,” his best friend mutters under his breath as Harry dares to step closer and Louis allows it. “Go on.”

“I shouldn’t have reacted like that about Thomas kissing you.” Louis seems to fully agree with that statement, however, his defenses weaken when Harry reaches up to briefly cup his cheek in a way that Harry was never brave enough to try until this moment. “I should’ve just been honest.”

His cheeks flush a dusty rose color under his touch, but it’s not from the dozens of people watching like before. Louis leans into his palm like a reflex, looking almost sad at the loss of him when Harry lets his hand fall away.

“H- Honest about what?” he asks after he recovers, attempting to square his jaw again to regain some of his edge, but it’s lost. Softened down to almost nothing when Harry takes hold of his hand instead and presses a warm kiss to it.

“About the way I feel,” Harry admits. “About the way I’ve felt our whole lives, because I love you, Louis. I always have.”

There is no instruction manual for this. Harry doesn’t know how to get them from here to their future life together, but he figured admitting the truth was a good place to start. However, from the way Louis’ breath catches and Louis’ eyes narrow at him in suspicion, Harry is fairly certain he’s fucking everything up again.

“You don’t want to talk,” Louis accuses him. “You’re wasted,” he decides, giving him a disappointed shake of his head before attempting to sidestep him and getting nowhere.

“But, I’m not. I’m not drunk,” Harry swears only for Louis to give him a knowing, flat face in return. “Er- Okay. So, maybe I am a little. I did have a few drinks tonight, but, Lou, that doesn’t change anything. Being in love with you is something I’ve done my entire life. This isn’t anything new,” he promises, letting his grin return as he bravely links their hands once more. “…And, I’m not one-hundred percent sure, but I think you just might love me too. We’re meant to be together.”

In every future Harry has seen, their love for one another was the one constant. That one indisputable fact. Even when they couldn’t be together, Harry felt it. Even when Louis wasn’t there at all. And, now that they’re standing here at the start of it all, it’s here; palpable, and so powerful that he can see it in Louis’ eyes that he feels it too. Always has. Always will.

“Haz, don’t,” he pleads, his gaze downcast as if nobody was supposed to know that about him. Especially not his best friend. Tears are pooled in his blue eyes when he blinks back up, like ice melting away from the sky. “Harry, why are you even saying things like this? Is it just to get back at me for earlier? To make me feel like shit?”

“Love, of course not. No,” Harry squeezes his hands. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I love you more than anything, Louis.”

“I know that. I believe that you love me, but not in the way I’ve always wanted you to,” he sniffs. “You’ve never loved me back the way I love you.”

That couldn’t be further from the truth but that’s only because Louis doesn’t know what he does. He hasn’t seen what they’re going to be, where they’re going to end up, and that they’ll do it all together. Harry stands there listening as he lists all the reasons why Harry loving him makes no sense and how he’s doing this just to be cruel, the whole time replaying the last dozen kisses they shared in his head, hoping their first one will leave him just as breathless.

He doesn’t make the conscious decision to kiss Louis when he does. It’s like he can’t bear to be away from Louis for another second before he’s lifting Louis’ chin to his height to silence the room. Louis’ lips slow against him, so clearly stunned by the new sensation that he’s hardly even breathing when he tentatively kisses back.

Louis is clinging to his shirt when Harry pulls away just far enough to properly see him. He searches Harry’s face, looking both excited and terrified of what this means.

“This isn’t a joke, right?” he checks. “You’re serious?”

Harry earns himself a light shove to the chest when he chuckles in response.

“I’m not joking,” he promises. “I really, actually love you, Louis. And I plan to for a very long time.”

He waits for that to sink into Louis’ brain, snorting a laugh when he’s suddenly pulled into another kiss after a whispered, ‘ _You better. And I love you too.’_

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you alright, love?”

Harry’s grin widens in his husband’s direction, watching as his knees bounce the way they have since they left home.

“I’m still alright. Thanks for asking,” Harry laughs.

“ _Seriously_?” he exclaims. “You’re trying to tell me you’re not even a _little_ nervous?”

Harry pretends to mull it over, feeling his dimples dent his cheeks when he smiles with a confident, “Nope. Not really. I’m good.” All that does is make his husband roll his eyes, slowly releasing an anxious breath when Harry laces their fingers and gives his hand a tight squeeze. “You have nothing to be nervous about, babe. I promise. Emma’s going to love us.”

“I know, I know. I just- I don’t get how you’re always so bloody calm,” he laughs. “I’m fucking losing it over here.”

Living through life’s biggest moments has been as exhilarating for him as it is for everyone else, even with the knowledge of where his life is headed. If anything, knowing that things are destined to work out for them makes those moments even more special, allowing him to relax and simply enjoy every blessing he and Louis encounter, all the while his husband loses his shit. Ever since that night he saw their lives mapped out, Harry hasn’t worried. Not about uni when Louis got into their top choice school a year before him, the all-nighters they pulled to get him through law school, when they couldn’t find the perfect flat, or even the day Louis changed his world by asking him to spend the rest of their lives together. None of those things scared him. They were just puzzle pieces falling into place just like the two of them all those years ago, and just like now when they’re moments away from meeting their little girl.

“I really hope she likes us. And her gift,” Louis says pulling the stuffed elephant that Harry convinced him would be a winner out of the bag next to his feet.

“She will. I know it.”

“Oh, yeah? Another one of your famous feelings, then?” Louis smirks, now more inclined to trust Harry’s intuitions that have never led them wrong. “God, the wait’s killing me.”

Harry glances at the clock hanging across the waiting room, beginning to feel a bit anxious himself. They’ve waited a long time to finally become parents, but for Harry it’s been even harder missing her all this time and knowing she would show up eventually but unsure of when exactly that would be. He’s never been more excited to re-meet someone in his life.

He’s not sure who leans in first, but the press of their lips is comforting all the same.

“You’re going to be such an amazing dad, Haz.”

Louis’ words put an instant smile on his face, flooding his chest with a warmth he hasn’t felt since the last time he saw their daughter. “One of your famous feelings?” he teases just as three knocks sound outside the waiting room.

“Something like that,” Louis whispers, taking Harry’s hand in his left and the elephant in his right as the door opens and their world becomes even brighter.

******

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, and thanks so much! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Big thanks to the amazing Tabby for reading over this each time I finished a chunk of it! Also, shout out to #snowmagedon snowing me in because that's the only reason this got finished XD


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